Tag Archives: compassion

I Am Woman

Women have strengths that amaze men.
They bear hardships and they carry burdens,
but they hold happiness, love and joy.

They smile when they want to scream.
They sing when they want to cry.
They cry when they are happy
and laugh when they are nervous.

They fight for what they believe in..
They stand up to injustice.
They don’t take “no” for an answer
when they believe there is a better solution.

They go without so their family can have.
They go to the doctor with a frightened friend.
They love unconditionally.
They cry when their children excel
and cheer when their friends get awards.

They are happy when they hear about
a birth or a wedding.
Their hearts break when a friend dies.
They grieve at the loss of a family member,
yet they are strong when they
think there is no strength left.

They know that a hug and a kiss
can heal a broken heart.
Women come in all shapes, sizes and colors.
They’ll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you
to show how much they care about you.

warrior2

 

The heart of a woman is what
makes the world keep turning.
They bring joy, hope and love.
They have compassion and ideas.
They give moral support to their
family and friends.

Women have vital things to say
and everything to give.

HOWEVER, IF THERE IS ONE FLAW IN WOMEN,
…THEY FORGET THEIR WORTH.

~ ANONYMOUS ~

 

Proverbs 14:1: Every wise woman builds her house: but the foolish plucks it down with her hands.

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Filed under Values, women

Hungry. Please Help. God Bless.

With a six-month-old baby, and my oldest just two-and-a-half, I was pregnant again! At nineteen years of age, I had gotten used to people’s stares of me the young, skinny girl with a round, swollen belly, a baby straddled on her hip, while holding the hand of another toddler. Excerpt from Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace

That young, skinny girl was me back then.

Today, rushing out of the grocery store, preoccupied with my list of things yet to be done once I got home, I hear a lady’s faint voice call out to me. I look and read the card in her hand: HUNGRY. PLEASE HELP. GOD BLESS. I mumbled under my breath and continue my pace, but not without glancing at a toddler asleep, bundled up in a stroller.

This poor woman called out to me! But for the grace of God, there go I.

I reflect back to a sad place in my life when I could have been her with my own child.

Yet, today this woman called out to – a high-school drop out, wearing a beautiful watch purchased from her son, a designer purse from her daughter, an !phone in her hand, wearing a sparkly diamond wedding band, nice clothes, shoes, nails manicured, hair styled, climbing into her shiny SUV.

She called out to me! Lord, you’ve brought me further than I ever thought possible.

I cannot help but think back and see in my mind’s eye a young, insecure teenager who owned only one pair of shoes, hand-me-down clothes, wondering where her wandering-eyed husband was, while she struggled to care for her little ones, listening to the rumbling in her own stomach.

She was me!

Although not necessarily rolling in dough, I now have the comforts of home needed to sustain me, with more than enough food in my fridge, cupboards, and belly.  I am able to enjoy many of the things I couldn’t before, remarried to a wonderful and faithful guy for almost 22-years now.

Giving Hands

I don’t look like I once did.

In my vehicle, I fumble around in my purse and find a $20 bill. I
then, drive to where this woman is, roll down my window and call out to her. Her eyes widen; a smile comes across her face. She gushes “thank yous and God bless yous”.

A car honks behind me.

As I drive off, I am left feeling blessed indeed. I whisper a prayer for that young woman and her baby. I am filled with gratitude as I’m reminded of how far God has brought me, knowing, He’s not finished with me yet.

© M.A. Perez 2016, All Rights Reserved

About "Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Benevolence

Ode to a Mother’s Heart – Part II

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Last month, I attended the funeral of a co-worker’s daughter. She was only twenty-seven years old. A beautiful soul, inside and out. She and her mother were connected to the hip. As a mother myself, I could only imagine the thoughts rolling around in this mother’s head, the depth of the pain in her heart, the weight of the burden upon her shoulders, and the hundreds of unanswered questions that most likely wanted to consume her.

This week, I attended yet another funeral of the untimely death of a mother’s child. This son was just twenty-two years old and had even served in the military. He was his mother’s pride and joy: strong, handsome, charming; his whole life ahead of him. To witness the pain in this mother’s eyes, touched me with every fiber of my being.

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For these families, I imagine there will be many tomorrows before the pain eases.

I don’t care how tough you think you are, a parent having to bury their child will bring anyone to their knees! For a parent to have to bury a child, it is a bitter pill to swallow. A myriad of emotions run rampant. The mind replays a flood of memories. The inner voices and screams cry out in despair and in utter darkness in mid day!

For this tragedy to have happened to these families – any family – my heart grieves for them. But especially for the mother. I can only fathom the sheer loneliness of a mother’s heartbeat for the loss of her child, no matter what age. Surely, every tear that escape serves as an expression of a genuine love embedded in a mother’s heart for a lifetime, more so than the nine months she carried that child in her womb.

I’ve asked myself why many times. But I think I know the reason why I tend to weep upon hearing the first sound of a newborn’s cry. I am reminded that a little miracle came out of me! A fresh start. New beginnings. Those cries remind me of that special moment in time where I first felt pure joy, hope, and thanksgiving. I am awaken to a sea of memories of the dreams and plans for this gift of a new life after giving birth. As fate would have it, not every dream comes to fruition, not every wish becomes a reality. There are many joys and sorrows in caring for children. But I imagine no sorrow can compare to having to say goodbye to your little one (young or old), knowing that it should have been the other way around.

I hurt for these mothers. Although they may never get over the loss of their child, I pray in time, they will get through it.

 

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Ode to a Mother’s Heart (Part I)

© M.A. Pérez 2015, All Rights Reserved

5 Comments

November 18, 2015 · 7:05 PM