Happy Birthday to my hubby, confidant and best friend! You still light up my life, the wind beneath my wings.
Secret of Life
Read this wonderful story today:
On the first day of classes, our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn’t already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder. I turned round to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me. She said, “Hi handsome, my name is Rose, and I am eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?”
I laughed and enthusiastically responded, “Of course, you may!” and she gave me a giant squeeze. We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months, we would leave class together and talk nonstop. Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went.
At the end of the year, we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I’ll never forget what she taught us.
After the introduction, she stepped up to the podium, cleared her throat, and began . . .
“We don’t stop playing because we’re old; we grow old because we stop playing. There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success. You have to laugh and find humor every day. You’ve got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die. We have so many people walking around who are dead and don’t even know it!”
“There’s a huge difference between growing older and growing up. If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don’t do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything, I will turn eighty-eight. Anybody can grow older. That doesn’t take any talent or ability. Have no regrets. The elderly usually don’t have regrets about what they did, but rather for things they did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets.”
At the year’s end, Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep. Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to her. She taught by example that it’s never too late to be all you can possibly be.
These words have been passed along in loving memory of Rose:
“Remember growing older is mandatory. Growing up is optional. We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.”
In youth we learn; in age we understand. ~ Source Unknown
July 16, 2016 · 10:48 AM
So God Made A Soldier
Duty, honor, country: Those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you ought to be, what you can be, what you will be. They are your rallying point to build courage when courage seems to fail, to regain faith when there seems to be little cause for faith, to create hope when hope becomes forlorn. They make you strong enough to know when you are weak, and brave enough to face yourself when you are afraid. ~ General Douglas A. MacArthur, 1962
July 2, 2016 · 6:47 AM
Does Size Matter?
I have heard numerous times how one has to dream “big” in order to achieve something, become something, or change something.
You know the old adage: Dream big or go home.
I’ve come across other sayings, too, such as: If your dreams don’t scare you, they aren’t big enough.
Say what?
Listen, I’ve got plenty of dreams, okay? Your dreams may not be my dreams, and I can guarantee that my dreams are not your dreams!
But a dream is a dream is a dream.
I just don’t buy the line, hook, and sinker that screams your dream doesn’t count, or isn’t as important, if it isn’t “big.”
No sir! No ma’am!
Think what you will, but you can’t look down on my dream and say that yours is more important than mine. Or that my dream doesn’t count because it isn’t as “big.”
Who are you to downplay my dream? Have you walked in my shoes?
When I wrote Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace, I not only mentioned some of the heartaches I endured as a child and young adult, but I also wrote about the good times, the happy times, and the contented times.
And you know what?
Some people looked down on those cheerful events I wrote about because they seemed insignificant to them.
Is that fair?
Hey, I’m tickled pink that you had a much “happier” life than me. Nonetheless, those were my good times, and they meant everything to this girl.
And I will tell you this:
I am a dream come true.
We all have goals, and we all dream dreams. Don’t try to be like anyone else. Be yourself and follow your heart. Pursue your dreams, and don’t ever quit. Timing is everything, and sometimes it takes baby steps.
But don’t allow anyone to downplay your dreams. Ever. No matter the size.
© M.A. Pérez, 2016, All Rights Reserved
June 23, 2016 · 7:06 PM
Father’s Day Tribute to the Men in my Family
Dad: A son’s first hero. A daughter’s first love.
The fathers in my family are affectionately referred to as Dad, Daddy, and Papi. Newsflash: None are perfect! But each one represents love, courage, provision, and strength. Their eyes glow with purpose. Their smiles melt hearts. Their chest swells with pride. Their callous hands protect. They stand tall with dignity. And their embraces offer comfort and assurance. Yes, they are the pillars of our households.
It’s said that every man is trying to either live up to his father’s expectations or make up for his father’s mistakes. I’m not sure if that’s true. I only know that each man represented in my family strives to be the very best possible. Each holds a mantle and carries a torch for the next generation. Each dad represented in my family lays a solid foundation, even those who have crossed over to the other side. I can’t help but think about my own grandfathers. They were strong, respected, dedicated men with a constant presence. They left behind a legacy. When the tough got going, they didn’t cave under pressure. They persevere with Puerto Rican pride in every fiber of their being.
To the men in my family who are dads (and have yet to be): I love and admire each and every one of you. And to my dear husband, who married me with four children, I share this quote: “It takes a strong man to accept somebody else’s children and step up to the plate another man left on the table.” I salute you.
I salute you all.
Remember: Any man can be a father. But it takes a special person to be a dad.
© M.A. Pérez, 2016, All Rights Reserved
June 17, 2016 · 6:19 AM
Metamorphosis
My family was poor. As a child, by not owning four-legged friends, I grew an interest in the behaviors of tiny critters, such as insects. Curious at what lay beneath the ant piles, I liked to dig apart their colonies to watch the different activities of the workers, the soldiers, and the queen ant that I read about in books. I never developed a fear of grasshoppers, even if they spat “tobacco” on my fingers, or of handling caterpillars that pricked when they crawled on my hand, or of sneaking up on lizards that left their wiggling tails behind — I was too caught up wondering what the funny red thing on their throats going in and out was all about. My fascination for those critters was a favorite pastime.
Not all school projects were memorable, but I recall one that stuck with me for years. When the teacher assigned a report on any subject, I decided to pick caterpillars. On a large poster board, I drew the four stages of the butterfly: (1) egg, (2) larva, (3) pupa, and (4) adult. I described metamorphosis. Though it wasn’t a Picasso, my work earned a ranking on my school’s hallway wall, posted for all to see, with the highest mark in class: A+.
One sunny day at school during recess, I found a black, woolly caterpillar crawling in the shrubs and unafraid, gently placed it in my palm. A classmate asked to see what I held. When I opened my hand to show him, he whacked it so hard that the caterpillar flew out and disappeared onto a bush. And that’s when I morphed! Without hesitation, I slapped him on the face, hard. The boy stood stunned, mouth open.
As an adult, I often thought about the word metamorphose. It means to change completely in nature or form.
I think back to how alcohol deceived my loved ones, giving them a false sense of power. After drinking, like the caterpillar many years ago in my book report, they metamorphosed into social butterflies fresh out of their cocoon. They felt invincible, glamorous, or intelligent. Gone were the restraints that crippled them emotionally. They carried a false sense of bravado. It was then that they laughed wildly, conversed freely, and flirted openly.
The more attention and compliments they received from others, the less they knew the difference between genuine praise and mere flattery.
(A small excerpt taken from Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace. )
© M.A. Pérez, 2016, All Rights Reserved
Memorial Day Tribute
Memorial Day is reserved for those who can’t return a smile or a salute, not to mention the families and friends who have been left behind. We honor those American men and women who died during combat.
Freedom is NOT free.
All gave some … Some gave all.
Filed under Memorial Day tribute
Cinco Ranch Ladies Book Club
Such an honor and a privilege to be invited to this incredible, fun group of ladies!
I met Janice Bigras at one of my book signings a few months ago. As soon as she read my book, she contacted me. Little did I know, she coordinated a fantastic book club in Katy.
It was a pure delight to be surrounded by fans who had read my story and were engaging. They listened to every word and asked thought-provoking questions. They thanked me for being brave (imagine that), for sharing my story, and for inspiring others.
This journey is a dream come true. What is my story about? It depicts a girl’s refusal to be defined by her environment as she seeks inner healing from the brokenness that we are all looking for. I believe you, too, will be touched and inspired. Remember that your yesterday does not have to define your tomorrow. I am living proof of that.
Make sure you order your copy today on Amazon or at any of your favorite online bookstores. I’m told they also make excellent gifts.
Mother’s Day Tribute to the Women in my Family
Becoming a Mom is watching your heart walk outside your body.
As I reflect on Mother’s Day, I am thinking about the mothers in my own family. Some of us had nurturing in our DNA; some never got the memo. Some of us got it down pat; some continue learning by trial and error. None of us is perfect or has it all together. But no matter what, our bloodline flows strong, and our hearts beat true. Children are a blessing. I believe as we look upon our children, young and old, the beating of our hearts never ceases to flutter. Some of us ease into our roles, and some of us, not so much. No one ever gave me a manual on Motherhood; even if they did, the writer most likely didn’t have children of their own. Why? Because we learn by experience, and we learn by trial and error.
As I gaze upon the eyes of each Mother represented here, I see the sadness of some unanswered prayers, worries about tomorrow, regrets of yesteryear, and the fear of failure. But I also see love, joy, perseverance, tenderness, belonging, pride, and hope for the future — a better tomorrow.
One thing my mother always said is worth repeating: You can have ten fathers, but only one mother.
Mothers, stand in the gap for your children. No matter what, never give up on them. And in our twilight years, may our children never give up on us.
© M.A. Pérez 2016, All Rights Reserved
Filed under Mothers Day, Tribute to Mothers
Glamorous? Not so Much: My Life as an Author
I published my memoirs just last year. I’ve been fortunate enough to meet some wonderful people along the way who’ve become fans of my work. I was thrilled when they asked for my autograph and wanted their pictures taken with me. I love feedback. I am touched when a reader shares how my story has inspired them. I feel honored and validated. Sure, it feeds my ego; it blows me away. And when I’m asked to attend a speaking engagement, a book club, or a ladies’ conference, it’s a humbling experience and never ceases to amaze me. But if I’m honest, stress also comes with the territory. I may sometimes be a nervous wreck and even lose my train of thought. I confess I don’t know what you see in me; I certainly haven’t forgotten from whence I’ve come from. I still notice my flaws. Don’t laugh, but I don’t even like watching myself on video, let alone listening to myself via audio.
This is all still a learning curve for me. You see: there’s a vast difference between writing and public speaking. In writing, I can structure sentences and reword phrases and paragraphs without interruptions to my heart’s content with pen and paper, or on the keyboard. I would venture to say that I am not the only wordsmith who feels this way. There are many other writers and authors out there just like me. We are not all best-selling authors. The truth is that an author’s life is not all glamorous. Neither will there be warm and fuzzy feelings in reading a not-so-good book review about your work (ask any author about that). We are mostly normal individuals–some more successful and polished than others–but none of us is perfect. We all go home and try to maintain a decent life in every way possible.
My life isn’t always about sitting pretty on top of the world, riding high horses. My husband is a general contractor with rough hands because he prefers doing most projects himself. This line of work is abased and abound. Although his knees and back suffer the consequences and take on a beating, he takes pride in his craft. He is meticulous and thoroughly enjoys the work. Our eldest daughter is his faithful assistant. When not out on the field with him, she assists me with my writing projects and promotes my book. She is quite savvy in the social media department and is my traveling companion to monthly book signings. I appreciate her. She is the lady behind the camera who makes me look good.
I hold a full-time, 45-hour-a-week sales job answering calls all day. My mind sometimes wanders, wishing I were writing or vacationing, but alas, reality hits me in the rear and I have work to do! Believe it or not, my family and I also provide 24-hour care to a precious 105-year-old saint of God. In caring for her, we definitely don’t want to cause her any additional discomfort or needless pain. But as we tend to her personal needs, such as lifting, bathing, and changing an adult, much more fragile than before, it’s neither easy nor always pleasant. Some years ago, we made a pact. We promised Elizabeth we’d care for her to the best of our abilities until the end. Not everyone can do this. I believe God gives us the grace to do so. I’ve written about Elizabeth before. She teaches me about life. She is God’s gift to us, but she swears it’s the other way around.
So what am I saying? An author’s life is not necessarily glamorous. What is it, then, you ask? I will tell you that since becoming a published author, I have found it quite rewarding and fulfilling.
While sharing my story, time after time, I’ve noticed that many are brought to tears. And then as I listen to their heart, my own tears flow. Is it planned? No. It just happens. Tears bring a sweet release and cleanse the soul. Oh, it’s easy to laugh with others (and I do love to laugh). But when was the last time you wept with someone? When was the last time you’ve impacted someone and knew you’ve made a difference in his or her life? I have also shed tears of joy. Then my makeup runs, leading me to freshen up before my daughter happily snaps away with her camera.
Yes, my life may not be as glamorous as you would think, but my life has been enriched.
This is my joy. This is my passion.
I remain grateful for all who have been part of my journey.
© M.A. Pérez 2016, All Rights Reserved
Filed under Author, Book Running in Heels, Memoir, Thankfulness, writing, Writing Journey
From Heart to Heritage
