Don’t give up on your dreams—God planted them.
Don’t give up on your goals—He is shaping them.
And don’t give up on yourself—God isn’t finished with you.
When the road is long, and strength feels thin, hold fast.
God sees the dream.
God orders the steps.
And God is still working in you.
A fresh start, a new chapter, and endless opportunities. Happy New Year!
Filed under Reflections From the Heart
Some messages are meant to be heard. This one poured out of me, and I wanted to share it with you in my own voice. May it meet you where you are ~
As I journey along the way, I have come to realize that I need you. I learn, grow, and I am encouraged by you! You see, there was a period when I was hurting so much I didn’t have time for you. I was too wrapped up in my own little sad state of affairs to consider you. And why not? I was led to believe that I was insignificant, damaged goods, a toss-away. In my bleeding heart, what could I have contributed to you anyway? Why would anyone listen to anything I had to offer? Inside, I was frail, weak, and torn. I felt lonely. I was a mess!
But that was then. This is now: I thrive in hearing you say that I’ve helped you. I am comforted knowing I have made a difference. It could be through a deed—a spoken word, a smile, a written word, or a touch.
Thank you for allowing me to be me and for going on this incredible journey with me. You walked with me in my brokenness and pain. You rooted for me during my shame. You cheered for me because I emerged sane!
I have an endless hope, not a hopeless end!
My messes became my message. My life of peril turned into a life of promise. Through it all, I have gained an astonishing insight. I know that I’m somebody. I have a bright future. I have a purpose. I am needed and loved.
God hasn’t given up on you, so don’t you dare give up on Him. God loves you, and I do, too.
“For in Him we live, and move, and have our being.”
Acts 17:28
If this message spoke to you, I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment, share it with a friend, or let me know how you’re finding hope in your own journey. God bless!
Filed under encouragement, Hope
I remember first holding you, so tiny in my arms.
Next thing I knew, you turned two, angelic, and quite the charm.
Your silhouette dances in my dreams before my eyes –
Remembering your joy with my simple lullabies.
I imagine your eyes, your voice, your laughter,
Spending time together, nothing else mattered.
I thought about you often before crawling into bed at night.
I loved you deeply and never wanted you out of my sight.
I wish you could tell me what’s on your mind today?
What are the things you’re longing to say?
Would you have married a wonderful husband?
Live in a castle and have many children?
Oh, if only I could see you now. I would run to you. I would hold you and twirl you around!
Oh, sister, there will always be a hole in my heart,
But I guess, somehow I knew that from the start.
If only I had you to talk to, share secrets with, laugh, and cry
I would not be here thinking: Why? Why did you have to die?
Excerpt, Chapter 2 of Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace
Soft, velvety cheeks. A round, rosy nose. Dark hair like mine, but curly. Eyes, blue that sparkled like the ocean I’d seen in storybooks. I kissed her sweet-smelling face. Her soft, pudgy hand with tiny fingers curled inside mine. Anna melted my heart. I won’t be alone anymore. I caressed her cheeks and whispered, “I’ll stay by your side for always.”
Soon left with the responsibility of caring for Anna, I became her substitute mother. I loved her and took care of her as best as a seven-year-old could.
What a gorgeous, sunny day it was in Sour Lake Texas, a historic town in Hardin County, southwest of Beaumont! My recent book signing at Bruno & George Winery was a heartwarming success, filled with wonderment, meaningful conversations, and shared excitement. Stories were shared, books were sold, and my eldest daughter accompanied me showcasing her own talented artwork.
I wish to express my deepest thanks to everyone who came out. Special thanks to Shawn Bruno for hosting us so graciously.
If you haven’t yet read my memoir, it’s available through Amazon—a story of resilience, faith, and legacy. We’re presently working on a Spanish edition to honor my Puerto Rican heritage and reach even more hearts. You can support this journey through our GoFundMe Campaign.
Stay tuned for future book signings and events. And if you’d like to invite me to your book club or community gathering, I’d love to hear from you! Contact me
Filed under Book Signing Event
A senseless act boggles the mind. My heart is heavy. Words fail me.
Someone so eloquently said: A horrible monster robbed this world of someone who inspired so many.
I did not know him personally, but I grieved just the same. Charlie Kirk was a devoted husband, loving father, and man of faith. He was a light in the darkness, a bold voice yet with compassion. He spoke with such conviction, piercing the hearts of all who would hear. In every debate, he pointed to God’s written word. He spoke the truth, and he was martyred for his faith. I do not doubt that his legacy will continue.
It still rings true: we don’t know what tomorrow holds or how much time is left. Let’s strive to make each day count. Share our faith. Point others to Jesus. Love on others, and hold true to God’s word.
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. ~ Psalms 116:15
“Time is fleeting. But the impact we make within that time is eternal.” ~ Orly Wahba
Filed under Charlie Kirk, Faith
Hola family, friends, and fellow bloggers! I wanted to share the latest news with you! I’ve been dedicating my time to translating my memoir into Spanish. It has been one of the most challenging and tedious tasks I’ve faced. I could not have done it without relying on the help of others, thus the slow process. Initially, I sought professional translators, but their prices were sky-high, far beyond my means. That was my reality check. I then turned to family and friends. Although they initially agreed to help, their busy schedules made it difficult to commit.
Then, unexpectedly, my son’s new girlfriend took an interest in my story and dove right into the translation. The tedious work began. However, after about a year, life took another turn — their relationship ended, and the translation remained unfinished.
Finally, knowing my story, a kindhearted translator from Puerto Rico reached out to me. We began working together and committed to finishing the task. A year and a half later, the translation was completed! Now, I’m in the final stage — professional proofreading.
Revisiting the sentences, paragraphs, chapters, and dialogue throughout the pages of my memoir, the written words became alive again. I found myself feeling and reliving almost every word. Tears rolled down my face. You see, it reminded me—I’ve survived so much! Indeed, God has been good to me, a constant steadfastness in my unstable life. He is the God of miracles.
“¡Contéstame!” Me pegó con la parte de atrás de la mano. Vi las estrellas.
“Answer me!” He backhanded me. I saw stars.
The above quote is just a tiny glimpse of what once was. My wish now is to share my story with the Latino community. That others might learn hope and know about the God of second chances and new beginnings. If God can do it for me, He can certainly do it for anyone!
Yet, the journey isn’t over. Writing my memoir was only the first hurdle. Along came the translation into Spanish. Then came the editing and proofreading. Lastly, the final publishing will bring it to life in another language. But it all comes with many challenges. And funds. This is why my daughter is launching a GoFundMe campaign for this project. If you believe in the power of storytelling, resilience, and second chances, come join us in this final stage. This project is not just about printing pages. This is about bringing hope and reaching those who may feel hopeless and alone in their personal struggles.
With another birthday soon approaching, I invite you to walk alongside me. If you have read my memoir, and my story resonated with you, then you also believe in the God of impossible situations. Every bit of support brings me one step closer to achieving my goal—sharing this memoir with the Latino community. ¡Wepa!
Filed under Memoir Translation Project, Publishing Journey
What exactly is joy?
I’ve heard it said, “The world didn’t give it to you and the world can’t take it away.”
Joy: a feeling of great pleasure and happiness. At least that’s what I read online. Sounds good to me, but I know from experience that pleasure and happiness don’t last. Let’s face it, most of us look to others to please us. We often look to others to make us happy. We also look for things to bring us pleasure and happiness. But if we’re honest, that in itself is fleeting, isn’t it? Before you know it, we’re needing another fix!
So, how is “joy” different?
The Bible teaches that the joy of the Lord is our strength. (Nehemiah 8:10b); I love that! But can one experience joy while going through everyday life with its many toils, twists, and turns? To be honest, during times of trauma, the thought of joy escapes me. I mean, I’m not necessarily thinking about joy during these times. Matter of fact, I may even kick and scream (inwardly), and even have actual meltdown periods, or panic attacks.
When I read my Bible, I am reminded that the joy of the Lord is my strength. This is what it means to me: it’s a joy unspeakable and full of glory!
I may not be able to explain it, put my finger on it, or even see it. But I know it’s there – I know it in my knower. (Bear with me, please, I’m fully aware this isn’t “correct” English.) But I just know that I know. It’s not an “in your face” kind of thing. It’s not necessarily giddiness. It’s not even a denial of difficulties. For me, it’s a reassurance that everything will be all right. I may not understand some things, even while having a breakdown, feeling sad, or grieving.
The pain is real. The battle is real. But so is the joy real. This joy is indescribable. Come hell or high water, I feel safe and secure in my Heavenly Father’s arms. It feels just like when I was a child in my earthly daddy’s arms. Even in the midst of pain and sorrow, here is where there’s strength and comfort. This joy floods the heart; it brings inner peace and strength, even though everything else around may be chaotic.
I didn’t always know this or believe this. But through my experiences, I’ve learned a few things. Learn to be still. Quiet. Wait on God’s perfect timing. Life happens. Happiness is fleeting. Pleasure is temporary. But the joy of the Lord remains constant regardless of circumstances and situations.
Joy is the best makeup – Anne Lamott
Excuse me while I put on some makeup.
Have you experienced this joy?
Filed under Isaiah 61:3
“To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes,
the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
that they might be called trees of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.” Isaiah 61:3
How do you find beauty in difficult times?
My devotion today is found in Isaiah 61:3. This passage of scripture brings me comfort. Yet, I wondered…
How can there be a smidgen of beauty among the rubble? Wreckage? Or ashes?
How is this even possible?
How do we see beauty amid suffering, hopelessness, or despair?
When I saw my baby sister lying in her small white coffin, I sure didn’t see any beauty in that.
As a child, I noticed my mama with bruises on her body. I failed to see them as beauty marks.
My former husband was known for his strength, vigor, and sure-footedness. After one drink of alcohol, he morphed into a sloppy drunk, miles away from anything charming.
To watch my grandpa become a prisoner in his own body was disheartening. His barrel-chested physique became sunken and scrawny. It was a far cry from what I considered alluring.
My grandma was once so robust and plump. When my eyes caressed her features, I saw her turning thin and frail due to illness. It wasn’t lovely to behold.
The day I saw my former husband turn his back on me was not a picturesque scene. He had pulled the rug from under my feet. He left me in the dust while I choked in my sobs and called out his name in vain.
My tiny 29-day-old granddaughter, swollen from fluids in a medically induced coma after her open-heart surgery, wasn’t eye-appealing.
Recently, saying goodbye to Mama was anything but a pleasant and beautiful moment.
Scars tell a story, but they are not beautiful. Neither are the hidden bruises on the body nor the scab on the heart.
Death is not cute; the grieving of loved ones taken from you is never delightful. Hunger is not charming. Loneliness is not attractive.
Repossession isn’t grand. Foreclosure is far from good.
So, how can there be beauty for ashes?
I believe it is found in hope. Hope against hope. Hope that the imperfect will become perfect. Hope that the pain will cease. Hope that there will be a day of reckoning. Hope that the scattered pieces will rebuild. Hope for healing and relief. Hope that the light will dawn and a new day will come. Hope that this too shall come to pass. Hope in heaven. Hope that the best is yet to come. And most importantly, we believe in the Blessed Hope. One day, we shall see our loved ones again who have crossed over.
I can now yell it from the mountaintop. Thank you, Lord! You have turned my life’s ugliness into a thing of beauty!
Out of sadness and hurt will come strength and victory.
We all wrestle with struggles—some visible, some hidden. But can they serve a greater purpose?
Recently, I had the opportunity to fly to Miami and visit with loved ones. We helped celebrate my sister’s birthday. I met up with my daddy, step-mother, and sister, and stayed with them at a hotel. We enjoyed an excellent meal at a popular Cuban restaurant. The next day, we planned a fun outing. We met up with one of my brothers, his lovely girlfriend, and my beautiful nieces. While driving there, we heard a thumping noise that didn’t sound good coming from under the minivan. We stopped, got out, and discovered that we had a flat. We weren’t going anywhere. Locating the spare tire was frustrating, and unlocking it took even longer. Then we searched for the closest tire repair shop, wasting more time sitting there. We finally arrived two to three hours later, hot, cranky, already tired, and hungry.
At the fairgrounds, we walked around and got snacks. Then we stopped to watch a show. A man and his dog were performing tricks with a frisbee. We decided to climb the bleachers for a better view. Using the bleachers as stairs, I tripped and fell on bleacher number one, landing on my knees. I got up and fell again on bleacher number two. Ouch! Lord, have mercy on me! My brother ran to help and steadied me to finally sit and watch the rest of the show. When we left and reached our vehicle, I yanked on the car door latch to open it. I quickly found the door was still locked. I injured my finger while pulling on the handle! I still can’t bend my middle finger a month later— you can imagine how that looks!
1 Corinthians 12:7
On Sunday morning, we visited my brother’s church. Instantly, I was drawn by the pastor’s message when I heard him speak on having a thorn in the flesh. The pastor said that thorns drive us to humility. Yeah, I certainly was all that. I had fallen and landed on my knees in front of everyone.
A thorn in the flesh can derive from various situations for different people. It can mean a piercing and troubling situation, person, or task. And I’m here to tell you that thorns don’t feel so good. They prick. And they hurt! But can they show us that in our weaknesses, God becomes strong?
The pastor also mentioned that God uses brokenness in our lives. We indeed throw broken things away. But I was reminded that God will use broken pieces and broken people. Broken people know how much they need God! Our thorns in the flesh remind us of our need for God’s strength, and not on our own strength.
After the service, I determined to focus on the positives of my mini-vacation. I got the chance to get away for the weekend. I rekindled precious memories with siblings. I also spent some quality time with Daddy, who will soon turn 92 years old, God willing. His health may be declining, but he was still active and engaging with me. We ate our meals together and shared stories. One night, I brought him his favorite café con leche to the room from a restaurant nearby. He was so happy. I mentioned how he had been really eating well. He looked at me with that endearing twinkle in his eyes, leaned close, and said, “I did it for you.”
It’s always been difficult to say goodbye whenever it’s time to leave my family in Florida. This time was no exception. My stepmother cried. My sister cried. I cried. Thank goodness Daddy and I spoke earlier, and he was asleep already!
My brother dropped me off at the airport. I checked in my luggage and went through customs. I sat alone in the cold lobby, reminiscing on all that had occurred over the weekend. It wasn’t long before the airline announced several delays. These delays put my flight three hours behind. Then, the dreaded word ‘canceled’ blared over the loudspeaker. Although the airport was freezing, at that moment, the tension rose. Tempers flared with heated words from passengers and staff. Four hours later, I paid an extra airfare to fly home on another airline. I had to get off and switch flights before arriving home the next morning. The trip cost more than I had budgeted, not to mention missing an entire day of work. At that moment, I felt weary, defeated, and broken.
The pastor that morning illustrated that we are living in this flesh. Yet, as Christians, we also have the Holy Spirit. So it’s up to us to starve one and feed the other. The one who starves tends to lose; the one we feed tends to win. Let’s learn to rely more on the Holy Spirit so that we feed our inner man. Through this, we gain power in our weaknesses.
In retrospect, I had experienced a few unpleasant thorns. Yet, I realize that God desires to shape me for something greater. Thorns cause frustration, but I believe it will lead me back to the realization that God’s grace sustains me.
Lord, I know you’re trying to teach me something here. My flesh says: Can you hurry up the process so I can learn it and move on?
My spirit says: Help me in my weakness, Lord. May I rely more on you and be reminded that I am complete in you. I thank you, God, for your grace.
Filed under Faith and Spirituality, Personal Stories
The fathers in my family are affectionately referred to as Dad, Daddy, and Papi. Newsflash: None are perfect! But each one signifies 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 live up to his father’s expectations. Alternatively, he is trying to 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 persevered with Puerto Rican pride in every fiber of their being.
To the men in my family who are dads: I love each of you. I admire each of you. 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. It takes strength to 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.
And to the newest addition to our family, my grandson’s precious
little girl, who has made me a proud great-grandma!
Filed under Tribute to Fathers
From Heart to Heritage
NEW! Book Club Edition
Reflexiones del Corazón
I just want to thank Mandy for making me a hero in her garden. I was deeply touch and wanted to share my appreciation by adding her link on my sidebar. Click the picture below to view her blog. . .
Reflections From the Heart 