Reflections From the Heart

March 17, 2017 · 12:33 PM

Mediocrity

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I recently read about the curse of mediocrity, and this resonated with me! Truthfully, sometimes I just don’t feel right within myself and can’t put my finger on it. Other than that, I know no one else is to blame. Ever have that “meh” feeling? Just want to veg out, chill, and do nothing? Your mojo is gone! You say like Scarlett, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

I came across this poignant read in my devotions from Zig Ziglar and Dr. Ike Reighard in “The One Year Daily Insights.”

“Do you ever feel as if you’re going through the motions? Some of us, for any number of reasons, have lost our passion for work, God, our families, and everything else in our lives. We drag ourselves in after a long day and collapse on the sofa only to tune out in front of the television. We no longer want to change the world. The most we can muster is changing the channel.”

“Even if the stress levels in our lives are only slightly above optimum, our minds, hearts, and bodies eventually wear down, and all forms of energy in our lives dissipate. We used to be excited about this goal or that purpose, but no longer. We used to care deeply about this person or that cause, but not anymore. All we want is to be left alone or to find somebody or something that will give us a few moments’ pleasure. The curse of mediocrity ruins us and everyone we touch.”

“If your heart is lukewarm, step back, take stock of your stress level, notice any negative habits you’ve allowed to develop—and make changes. Don’t settle for mediocrity any longer, but don’t just add more activity to your life. To become fully alive again, you may have to eliminate even more than add.”

Zig Ziglar goes on to say:

“…the most miserable creature on earth is the fence-straddler trying to please God and man. He fails to do either and ends up not even pleasing himself, mush less his fellow man or his God.”

Wow! Maybe at times, we are so busy being too busy that we lose focus and sight of our purpose. We don’t take time for ourselves to regroup or to refuel. We become empty, burned out, and have nothing left other than leftovers to give to our loved ones, let alone anyone else! I’m talking about doing the right things; we can still lose sight and forget the “whys” behind the drive. And who likes feeling as though they are mediocre? Don’t even get me started! Anyone who has read my memoir knows I fought the feeling of being “less-than” for most of my life, and on occasion, still fight this battle from within. But I refuse to remain on Mediocre Lane.

Listen, God don’t make junk! When He created you, He didn’t make anyone else like you. You are unique and a prized possession, the apple of His eye. Never give up on yourself. Sure, you will have some down days and reach a melting period, but just don’t stay there!

Let that sink in!

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Tagged as devotional, Dr. Ike Reighard, mediocrity, Mindset, motivational, Musing, non-conformity, self-optimization, The One Year Daily Insights, Zig Ziglar

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Perfect Love

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March 2, 2017 · 7:15 PM

February 23, 2017 · 6:57 AM

The Day the Earth Stood Still

“No, not again! Not now!” I cried out in the bathroom. I’ll call Marisa. She’s always been strong. She has it together.

I reached for the phone and dialed her number. When she answered, I blurted, “The test is positive! I’m pregnant.” She’ll lift my spirits.

“Mary . . .” she began. “How in the world will you care for another baby?”

Then again, maybe not.

“What are you going to do?” Marisa squealed.

I thought, If I knew that, I wouldn’t have called you. Wasn’t I the one supposed to get some reassurances, some guidance, some support here?

“I . . . I don’t know, I thought–”

“Mary, what were you thinking?” she shot back. “You can’t possibly have another baby! You’re only twenty-one; you already have three children, and now number four on its way? Your husband drinks too much, he works only when he wants to, you have a child with special needs, you guys don’t have enough money . . . !”

My mind swirled. I hung by a flimsy strand, all hope was slipping. Okay! Tell me something I don’t know. Marisa’s right, whom am I kidding? I. Can’t. Go. On.

Then, she added, “Listen, I’ll help you. If you will get an abortion . . . I will help you pay for one.”

So, that’s it? The quick-fix solution to the problem . . . to end an innocent life?

“I . . . I’ll have to think about this,” I muttered. “Let me sleep on it and get back to you.”

Did that answer come out of me?

I placed the receiver down, heavy with conflicting emotions. My world came to a halt. My heart felt heavy. I cradled my belly, thinking: I can’t have another baby. But can I truly consider this the way out?

The girls slept in their room. Their father was—Lord only knows where. I sat alone in the dark, crossed-legged on the bed. My head ached. My stomach was tied in knots. Overcome with waves of hopelessness, memories churned to the one security blanket I had ever known: the home of my grandparents. And I realized I was sinking. Fast.

What happened to my anchor of faith? My hope? Isn’t God big enough to handle the mess in my life? I have to admit, I’ve been too busy for Him. Now that I need Him, does He still care? Then it occurred to me: If I can’t trust God now, then what’s the point of going on?

That instant I prayed like never before, and pored over my Bible. The Book of Psalms always comforted me, and that night before sleep overtook me, my “Ah hah” moment came after reading Psalm 139:13: For You created my innermost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I wasn’t about to take the life of my unborn child, believing that God gave that life to me.

Come morning. A new day. A fresh start. Resolute in my decision, faith sparked. God had always taken care of me before. I determined to trust Him to carry me now. I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief. Give me the grace to endure…

I reached for the phone and dialed Marisa’s number.

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Mary, think about what—”

“No!” I shouted. “I’m going to walk on and trust God. You knew my convictions. I thought they were yours, too.”

“Mary, I was only trying. . .”

“How?” I interrupted, pacing the floor. “By offering me an abortion? I came to you down and out for encouragement and prayer. I needed to hear ‘hope’ beyond my pain, but you didn’t—you wouldn’t—give me that!”

“Look, Mary, you’re still so young. I’ve been around longer than you. . .”

“You never had children,” I protested.

“I married a jerk once, too. They don’t change.” Marisa went on to give one reason after another about how she was looking out for my best interest.

After long seconds of dead silence and nothing else to say, we hung up.

I thought of a Sunday school lesson about Job, who called his friends miserable comforters. Even his wife told him to “curse God and die.” They were supposed to be his friends, yet those comforters increased his trouble by condemning him.

Marisa and I parted ways. Our friendship ended that day.

Days, weeks, and months overlapped one another; my past troubles were behind me. With my heart overflowing and my eyes drowning in tears, I reached down to kiss my newborn. “Hello, Daniel Michael,” I whispered. “I’m your Mommy.”

**********

Before long, my little curly-lock hair boy is running around with deep brown eyes, touching my heart each time he looks up at me.

The next thing I knew, I blinked, and the little boy was now a strapping young man, and I was gazing up at him!

(An excerpt from Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace)

Note: Please understand I share this story not to condemn, criticize, judge, or belittle anyone who, for whatever reason, may have made a different decision than I did. Everyone has their own story to tell; this is mine. I may have made a lot of mistakes in my life. This was one example when I was strong enough to make the right decision for myself. I believe that strength came as I prayed to my Heavenly Father. While it’s true that I may have my share of regrets in life, not giving birth to my one and only son thirty-six years ago is not one of them.

Happy Birthday, son! I love you with all my heart!

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Filed under Memoir, Pro-Life, Uncategorized

Tagged as abortion, choices, depression, Faith, hopelessness, Job's friends, memoir, personal, Prayer, pregnancy, Pro-Life, son, strength

February 13, 2017 · 10:10 PM

No Strings Attached

It was just a harmless prank, that’s all it was.

And it wasn’t as if Old Lady Hayes didn’t deserve it. The way she used to scream at us for “borrowing” a few of her precious raspberries each summer, like we were stealing gold out of Fort Knox … well, she had it coming.

At least, that’s the way we saw it as George finished tying the string to the red, heart-shaped box. We giggled as Ron added the final touch: two plastic red roses, glued to the lid. “I wonder what will surprise her most,” I asked as George practiced jerking the box out of reach by yanking on the string. “Seeing a box of candy on her step, or watching it fly away when she tries to pick it up?”

We laughed as we watched George make Albert chase the box around the garage. For a chubby 10-year-old, Albert did a good imitation of Mrs. Hayes’s hunched hobble and her seemingly permanent scowl. And we howled when he picked up a broom and pretended to ride it through the midwinter air while shouting, “I’m Old Lady Hayes, the driedest-up old prune in the West!”

Ron was the first to notice my dad in the doorway. Within seconds, Ron’s anxiety was shared by all but Albert, who continued to swoop around the garage until he came face-to-belt-buckle with our silent observer. For a moment, the only movement in the room came from the little puffs of steam escaping our mouths. Dad broke the stillness by walking slowly to the empty candy box lying on the floor. He picked it up and dangled it by the string, watching it swing back and forth. Then he looked into the eyes of the frightened boys. And, as was his custom, he looked into their hearts as well.

“It doesn’t seem so long ago that I was pulling Valentine’s Day pranks,” he said as he laid the box on a workbench. “One year, my cousins and I decided to pull one on our Grandma Walker, even though we loved her — she was the sweetest grandma a boy could have. We were just feeling devilish and decided to have some fun at her expense.

“Early in the evening, we snuck up to her doorstep with a can of red paint. Grandma was hard of hearing, so we didn’t have to worry about being very quiet. Which was a good thing, because every time we thought about how funny it was going to be to see Grandma try to pick up a valentine that was just painted on her doorstep, we couldn’t keep from laughing.

“It didn’t take long, and it wasn’t very artistic. But for an old woman with bad eyes, it would do. We kicked the door and hid behind bushes. When Grandma finally appeared, she stood in the doorway, her gray hair pulled back tightly into her usual bun, wiping her hands on her usual apron. She must have heard the commotion in the bushes because she looked in our direction and spoke loudly enough for us to hear: ‘Who could be knocking at my door?’ Then she looked down. Even from 15 feet away, we could see the joy in her eyes when she spotted a splash of red at her feet.

“‘A valentine for Grandma!’ she exclaimed. ‘And I thought I’d be forgotten again this year!’

“She tried to retrieve her prize. This was the moment we had been waiting for, but somehow it wasn’t as much fun as we expected. Grandma groped at the fresh paint for a moment. Slowly, she figured out our prank. She tried to smile. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, she turned and walked back into her house, absently wiping red paint on her clean, white apron.”

Dad paused, and for the first time, I noticed that his eyes were moist. He took a deep breath. “Grandma died later that year,” he said. “I never had another chance to give her a real valentine.”

He took the box from the bench and handed it to me. Then he turned and left the garage.

Later that night, a red, heart-shaped box with two plastic roses on it was placed on Mrs. Hayes’s front doorstep by six giggling boys. We hid behind snow-covered bushes to see how she would react to receiving a full pound of candy and nuts.

With no strings attached.

Story by Joseph Walker

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Tagged as life lessons, prank, Valentine's Day

January 21, 2017 · 4:54 PM

The Battle Within

Some of you know that I recently joined Toastmasters. Last Thursday, I was asked to introduce myself by giving my first speech called The Ice Breaker. The objective? To begin speaking in front of an audience while focusing on the skills you already have… and the ones that need a little work. And yes, you only get four to six minutes!

I’d like to share my Ice Breaker speech with you, titled “The Battle Within.”

Was I nervous? You betcha.
Did I stumble? Oh yeah… but I kept going and finished.

And get this—I won Best Speech of the night. Go figure.

You just never know what can happen when you step out of your comfort zone and simply try.

toastmasters-1-the-ice-breaker

Thank you, Mr. Toastmaster.

Hi, I’m Mary Ann. I’m a published author currently working as an Inside Sales rep for a customer service company in Sugar Land, Texas. I have been happily married to my best friend for 22 years, and I have four amazing children and two adorable grandchildren.

I was born in New York and raised in Miami. My parents separated when I was 3 and divorced by the time I was 5.

I lived with my single mother, and we were dirt poor.

When there’s no money, you don’t have shoes… and eviction notices come often.
When there’s no food, you’re hungry all the time. And when there’s no love, you feel invisible.

I was forced to grow up too fast, wearing shoes too big for my feet, becoming my mother’s mother. And it crippled me emotionally.

I was ashamed of where I came from. I believed the “good life” was for other people, the kids who went to summer camp, took swimming lessons, and joined Girl Scouts. I was always on the outside, looking in.

As a teenager, that shame turned into bitterness. I thought I could do better than my mother… but instead, I ran into the arms of a man twice my age.

He was an alcoholic. A womanizer. Controlling. And I was drowning in insecurity.

I wore a mask to hide my low self-worth—but it only clouded my vision.

We married. By 22, I had four children. To him, I was nothing more than a baby machine. He fed my insecurities daily and made sure I never forgot my place—beneath him.

I didn’t think I deserved better… so I stayed for 15 years. Until one day, I finally grew up.

But the real turning point came when I returned to the God of my grandparents. That’s when healing began. My mind. My past. My broken emotions.

Today, I understand something I didn’t back then: what I endured didn’t break me… it built me.

A few years ago, I began writing my memoir for my children. I wanted them to understand my story, the struggles, the pain, but more importantly, the truth:

Your past does not have to define your future.

My current husband encouraged me to share it with other women. He told me, “You don’t just need to write this… you need to speak it.”

He was right.

Now, I won’t lie to you—the battle within didn’t just disappear. I still fight insecurity. I still wrestle with self-worth. But now—I don’t fight alone.

I know God is with me. His grace carried me then, and it carries me now.

And I’ve learned something powerful: The battles I face are not mine—they are His.

In my book, Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace, I share the journey of a young girl who refused to be defined by her circumstances—and found healing through her brokenness.

Because we all have a story.

And no matter where you come from…you are still a person of worth. It all starts with a made-up mind.

I joined Toastmasters because I’m ready to find my voice—not just on paper, but out loud. Because it’s one thing to write a story… and it’s another thing to stand, look people in the eye, and speak it.

I know I have something to say. And I want to say it well.

Thank you.

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Filed under The Ice Breaker, Toastmasters

Tagged as insecurities, personal, public speaking, speech, The Ice Breaker, Toastmasters

January 15, 2017 · 6:09 PM

Face to Face

Happy New Year!

f4694e59b0e6749e2d892b2a6899e728 Some of you have been wondering if I am still around. Oh yes, very much so. But due to personal reasons, after life threw us a curveball back in November, I had indeed taken a little sabbatical from blogging. I am happy to report that bit by bit, I am getting back on track with writing, etc. I’ve also joined a Toastmasters’ group and will give my Ice Breaker speech to them this week. I will share the outcome with you at a later date.

Meanwhile, let’s all do a little self-examination and reflection. Let’s get to know one another. Please add your thoughts and complete this sentence:

When I look in the mirror I tend to focus on my ______________.

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Tagged as contemplation, reflection

December 31, 2016 · 12:32 PM

I Am The New Year

Life, I am the new year.
I am an unspoiled page in your book of time.
I am your next chance at the art of living.

I am your opportunity to practice
what you have learned about life
during the last twelve months.

All that you sought
and didn’t find is hidden in me,
waiting for you to search it out
with more determination.

All the good that you tried for
and didn’t achieve
is mine to grant
when you have fewer conflicting desires.

All that you dreamed but didn’t dare to do,
all that you hoped but did not will,
all the faith that you claimed but did not have –
these slumber lightly,
waiting to be awakened
by the touch of a strong purpose.

I am your opportunity
to renew your allegiance to Him who said,
‘Behold, I make all things new.’

I Am the New Year.

~ By Author Unknown

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Tagged as determination, Faith, God, new beginnings, New Year, New Year poem, poem, resolution, Trust

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The Tale of Three Trees

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December 22, 2016 · 10:44 PM

December 15, 2016 · 12:22 PM

Part II ~ On a Wing and a Prayer

In counting my blessings this Thanksgiving holiday, I can’t help but think about all of the challenges (See Part One) we’ve experienced these past few months. It’s been refreshing for me to enjoy some quality time with my long-distance familia, especially being with Daddy again. Those who’ve read my memoir know how grateful I am that my maternal grandmother kept in contact with my dad after he and my mother divorced. I was only three when my parents separated and five when their divorce was finalized. I am happy to report that in my adult years, I’ve come to know the love of my heavenly Father, and I am equally delighted to report that I’ve come to know the love of my earthly father as well. I know many don’t have this luxury. Even though miles separate us, I am thankful that Daddy is still around and full of life. I wouldn’t change anything about him; I love him just as he is – young at heart!

Within a few days, we had the pleasure of visiting two of Daddy’s cariñosas sisters who exude warm, big, and loving hearts. Titi Blanca and Titi Viviana were gracious during our visits. The other can surely cook up a storm without being outdone by the other. Their specialties were arroz con pollo, a delicious one-pot meal closely related to paella, and ropa vieja, which is shreds of meat, peppers, and onions resembling a mess of colorful rags. We helped ourselves to seconds … or thirds and chased it down with a warm cup of cafe con leche. Unfortunately, we missed seeing another aunt on this trip, but promised Titi Edie that she would be the first stop on our next visit to Florida.

My hubby’s busted ribs from his 20 fall are still healing. He is such a trooper. Although needing to do a lot of sitting, even taking naps when allowed, he still wanted to participate in all our mini-vacation festivities. We spent half a day lounging under the sunny Florida skies at Bayside, Downtown Miami’s shopping, dining, and entertainment center. We enjoyed the live music and watching couples dancing to the merengue. We skipped the booze and ordered shots of espresso Cuban coffee (but I like mine with plenty of warm milk), and we ate pastelitos de guayaba, mmmmm.

Our oldest, Anna Marie, joined us on this trip, flying in before we did. The last time she visited la familia was on her 18th birthday — 22 years ago! We celebrated her birthday again in Miami, which was pretty special.

On our last evening, the hardest part is always saying goodbye. You cannot keep the tears at bay as they start to fall. I still hate goodbyes, especially with long-distance loved ones. After Mark’s accident and in preparation for this getaway, many prayers had gone forth. There were numerous times when I wasn’t sure we would make this trip for the holidays. But I am so thankful to the Lord that together we made it and are stronger than before. When you’re in the midst of a crisis, things come into focus, and the pettiness of yesterday takes a back seat. We dare not take one another for granted. Look around you. Life is worth living when you begin to count your blessings.

But those who wait on the Lord
Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint. ~ Isaiah 40:31

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Filed under Florida, Vacation

Tagged as Bayside, Downtown Miami, familia, Family, Florida, Ft. Lauderdale, personal, Prayer, Puerto Rican pride, reunion, thankfulness

December 8, 2016 · 11:02 PM

On a Wing and a Prayer

Challenges, unexpected events, escalating frustrations—do you ever have them? It’s called life. I’ve titled this vacation “On a wing and a prayer, ” and plenty of prayers have gone forth.

Reservations were made three months early. But after my husband sustained a 20-foot fall, which resulted in 13 fractured ribs, punctured lungs, and an extended hospital stay weeks before our scheduled flight, we weren’t sure we would even make this trip. And wouldn’t you know it, the day before we were to head out, I had a fender-bender right after leaving the office. I had just crossed over to the opposite lane when BAM, there she was! After talking to the police and exchanging pertinent information, I proceeded home with the wind knocked out of my sails, not to mention that I threw out my back and barely slept that night.

My encouraging husband, although still in great pain and discomfort from his fall, was determined to make the flight to sunny Florida to join my relatives for the Thanksgiving holidays. 15416112_10211984949486915_1434960611_n

Southwest Airlines treated us like royalty. They were very accommodating and provided the necessary assistance for the entire trip. Funny thing, though, was that one of the stewards for our flight out was running late. All passengers standing in line did not board the aircraft until he arrived. My husband and I had another plane to catch and worried we would miss that flight. Finally, in the distance, we noticed someone running toward us. It was none other than our tardy steward. Not long after he ran inside the plane, we began boarding. An attendant helped Mark get out of his wheelchair onto the plane and to our seats.

Once we landed in New Orleans, an airport assistant waited with my husband’s chariot at the doorway. He hurriedly wheeled him down the corridor with me in tow to our next flight. All passengers on that aircraft were already seated and ready for take-off. Two front-row seats were reserved just for us. Talk about feeling like instant celebrities!

We sat by Patricia, a missionary from Thailand. 348s Once we landed, it was she who became our guardian angel. While I retrieved our luggage, she stayed behind and waited patiently with Mark. When I returned, she volunteered to accompany me in fetching our rental car, even praying for a blessing over the remainder of our vacation. She walked with me back to where Mark was waiting, helped me load everything into the car, and politely waved goodbye to us. I truly felt she was an angel sent by God.

At last, in the wee hours of the morning, our tired and aching bodies arrived at the hotel room. It was good to finally sleep in.

After breakfast, we drove straight to my daddy’s house. 15424520_10211984949766922_105603279_n We were flooded with hugs, tears, and joy, and our bellies were full of my stepmother’s delicious Fricase de Pollo in no time. Due to all the medication my husband was on, he hadn’t had much of an appetite, but I was certain it would return with all the anticipated Puerto Rican cuisine.

15424494_10211984950326936_2039532884_n The next day after a warm breakfast, we drove into Ft. Lauderdale to visit Big Brother, his wife, and their three strapping sons. While the 15356116_10211984949966927_1995059090_n big boys played a game of chess, we gals went grocery shopping. When we returned, Mark was ready to call it a day. The pain from his ribs was causing him misery.

Thanksgiving Day: We never had a late Thanksgiving dinner before, but I guess when you have a lot of Puerto Ricans around to cook for, this is the norm. Soon we were surrounded by love and laughter and picture-taking. 15424682_10211984951606968_1021959210_n The anticipated meal did not disappoint. 15355900_10211984952206983_1020059264_n Although quite tasty, the star entree wasn’t the pavo but the pernil, the traditional Puerto Rican pork shoulder. Not to be outdone, there were a couple of large pans of my stepmother’s delicious arroz con gandules. This was a Thanksgiving feast at its best! I believe we ate until we couldn’t eat another bite; hardly any room for dessert.