Tag Archives: hope

Glamorous? Not so Much: My Life as an Author

12932601_1167941376590318_6157266493608052874_n2.jpgI 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

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

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Filed under Author, Book Running in Heels, Memoir, Thankfulness, writing, Writing Journey

My Story

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One of my cousins from across the miles posed a couple of great questions, giving me food for thought. He asked:

Why do you write? And why do you write about the family?

My answer to him:

First of all, I write because I know I have a story to tell. As a kid, eventually, I discovered we were dirt poor. In my teens, looking back, I realized that I was neglected and forced to grow up too fast. I was ashamed of my childhood and bitter for being my mama’s mother. As I “matured,” settled down, married, and had children of my own, along the way, I found I was a stronger person because of some of the things that I endured as a child. Once I embraced the God of my grandparents, I became a much better person, too. NOT that I had it all together; I still had a few things to learn. But I learned it was much better to let go of the bitterness and forgive than to hold onto the junk. I also learned that I didn’t have to be a product of my environment! I could rise above the ashes like a phoenix and become so much better. That was my freedom — still is — and God has called us to liberty, not to be in prison. Sure, I made some mistakes along the way, but I also learned from them. It starts with a made-up mind! While I’ve managed to confront my past, I believe my past hasn’t spoiled me, but has prepared me for the future. I may not be perfect, but I can wipe the crud off and walk on whenever I stumble. I share my story that I might help one person, and if I have done that, then I have done a good thing, and God gets the glory.

I mention family because the little girl growing up — although she may have felt like she was all alone most times — was not an orphan and did not live on an island unto herself. There were others around who helped to nurture her in one fashion or another, even the antagonists in her story. And yes, some were heroes. She cannot tell her story without mentioning those she looked up to. For it to be truthful, she had to address some honest and raw emotions and mention the flaws — the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The story is not fiction. It is written about how she remembers the events that shaped her life as a child, a teenager, and into adulthood. All the memories do not take her to a happy place. She has had to dig deep to find them. To some, those “happy” places may be simple and insignificant, but to her, they were her lifeline.

His response:

I am keeping this to remind me what it takes to be selfless.

 Thanks 

CD

I did not expect THAT answer 🙂

© M.A. Perez 2014, All Rights Reserved

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

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Filed under Inspirational, Memoir, Running in Heels

When You’re Down – Look Up

“Touch the Sky” by Hillsong

What fortune lies beyond the stars
Those dazzling heights too vast to climb
I got so high to fall so far
But I found heaven as love swept low

My heart beating, my soul breathing
I found my life when I laid it down
Upward falling, spirit soaring
I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground

What treasure waits within Your scars
This gift of freedom gold can’t buy
I bought the world and sold my heart
You traded heaven to have me again

My heart beating, my soul breathing
I found my life when I laid it down
Upward falling, spirit soaring
I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground

Find me here at Your feet again
Everything I am, reaching out, I surrender
Come sweep me up in Your love again
And my soul will dance
On the wings of forever

Find me here at Your feet again
Everything I am, reaching out, I surrender
Come sweep me up in Your love again
And my soul will dance
On the wings of forever

My heart beating, my soul breathing
I found my life when I laid it down
Upward falling, spirit soaring
I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground

My heart beating, my soul breathing
I found my life when I laid it down
Upward falling, spirit soaring
I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground

Find me here at Your feet again
Everything I am, reaching out I surrender
Come sweep me up in Your love again
And my soul will dance
On the wings of forever

For many, this has been a difficult and challenging year. As we come to the end of 2015 and soon enter a new year, my prayer is that with every new dawn and in every new challenge, may we find inner strength and peace from the One above who promises to never leave us or forsake us.

Nobody said life would be easy, but nothing worth having ever is.

Hold onto the memories. 

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

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December 27, 2015 · 1:23 PM

So Long for Now …

“Fred, Eric, Sarah, and Michael – to all of Susan’s extended family and beloved friends: My family and I extend our sincere condolences.”

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Susan’s family

“My heart is heavy today. Susie was my friend. She reached out to me when I was going through some personal pain in my life. She welcomed me and my family into her heart and home over 30 years ago. Our daughters are the same age and have become close friends. Her youngest son and my son, a year apart, became diaper buddies. Our husbands (during my first marriage) even grew close!”

“I’d watch Susie. She had such an upbeat personality, and her words were always so encouraging. Even when I didn’t feel so ‘upbeat’ and ‘positive’, I couldn’t remain feeling down for too long around her. She had a way of hugging you while she patted you on the back … hard! Being around Susie, I learned how to communicate with my small children. I learned how to laugh with them. Susie just had a way with children – she genuinely liked them! I don’t think she ever met a stranger; conversation simply flowed out of her mouth, and she truly cared for the one she was speaking to.”

“Susie had child-like faith, always believing that her Heavenly Father was ready to grant her simple requests. Whether it was a petition for the salvation of loved ones or to save her nation, whether she sought a miracle for a deformed child or for her own healing, she knew that there was nothing too hard for God to handle, and never wavered in standing on His promises. She was a true worshiper. She loved to dance before the Lord and become lost in His presence. I don’t doubt she is up there now, dancing with our Savior!”

“Susie believed in hope. Hope against hope. Hope for a better day. Hope that God had something better. Hope that tomorrow will come. She trusted, loved, prayed, believed, laughed, encouraged, interceded, danced, worshiped, sang, rejoiced, wept, and praised! She convinced me that I could make it, that everything would be okay, that I was destined for greatness, and that with God ALL things were possible to them that believed.”

“I enjoyed being around her, but towards the end, I am ashamed to admit that I grew uncomfortable. We sometimes cower at the things we do not understand. We cringe at anything that may appear bleak before our eyes, and before we know it, our resolve weakens, our faith wavers, and our hope diminishes. Yet, our God is constant. Aren’t you glad His love’s unwavering, His tender mercies unfailing, His grace enduring? He doesn’t give up on any of us! He says in His Word, His grace is sufficient for us – His strength is made perfect in weaknesses.”

“Susie, thank you for the memories. You will be sorely missed. I rejoice knowing that your pain and suffering have come to an end. When you took your last breath here on earth, your next breath became your first one in heaven.  You get to experience Christmas every day now, while we plod along doing all we know to do just to make it through another day.”

“And we who are left behind, may we not grow weary as we continue on this journey. May those of us who know Christ remember that this is not our permanent home. Through every tragedy, every trial, and every triumph, remind us, Lord, that You, oh God, have something greater in store for us. Although there are times we may not understand Your ways, God, may we remember that we can trust Your heart, for You know what’s best for Your children.”

“They say that I was a great friend to Susie, but it was she who was a great friend to me.”

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Doing what she enjoyed doing best.

I’ll always remember my friend, Susie Bubeck, and forever treasure our friendship of the many years we shared together! One day we will all reunite, but today we sadly said goodbye to her.

“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.” II Tim. 4:7

© M.A. Pérez 2015, All Rights Reserved

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

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December 23, 2015 · 7:48 PM

Oil of Joy

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, just as we look to 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 am not necessarily thinking about joy during these times.

So, when I read my Bible and 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 meltdown, feeling sad, or grieving.

The pain is real. The battle is real. But so is the joy real. This joy is indescribable knowing that, come hell or high water, I am safe and secure in my Heavenly Father’s arms (just like when I was a child in my earthly daddy’s arms). Even in pain and sorrow, here is where there’s strength and comfort. This joy floods the heart, it brings inner peace and stability, even though everything else around may be chaotic.

I didn’t always know this or believe this way. However, through my experiences, I’ve learned a few things. 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?

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Filed under Devotional, Isaiah 61:3

Beauty For Ashes

Beauty For Ashes

“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
(Photo Credit: forashes.org)

Today’s devotion is based on Isaiah 61:3. While this passage brings me comfort, it also raises a question I often wrestle with:

How can there be even a smidgen of beauty in the midst of rubble? In ashes? How is that even possible?

These questions don’t come lightly. They rise from places in my life marked by grief, loss, and deep sorrow, moments where beauty felt completely absent.

I remember seeing my baby sister lying in her small white coffin. And in that moment, beauty was the furthest thing from my mind.

When I noticed my mama with bruises on her body, I couldn’t see anything beautiful in that.

The man I once knew for his strength and steady footing slowly became someone unrecognizable, reduced to a sloppy drunk after just one drink; nothing was charming about that.

Watching my grandpa become a prisoner in his own body, his once strong, barrel-chested frame turning frail and sunken, didn’t resemble anything I would call beautiful.

And my grandma—once so full and vibrant—grew thin and weak from illness. That, too, was hard to look at.

I can still see the back of my former husband as he walked away, leaving me behind in a heap of sobs, calling out his name. There was nothing picturesque about that moment.

My tiny 29-day-old granddaughter, swollen from fluids and lying in a medically induced coma after open-heart surgery—that wasn’t something my eyes could call beautiful.

Scars are not beautiful. Neither are hidden bruises, whether on the body or the heart.

Death is never beautiful, and the grief that follows is a weight no one should have to carry. Hunger isn’t beautiful. Loneliness isn’t beautiful.

Repossession isn’t quaint. Foreclosure is far from delightful.

So how can there be beauty for ashes?

It doesn’t come by erasing the ashes. It rises from them.

This kind of beauty doesn’t pretend the pain never happened. It doesn’t gloss over the heartbreak or tidy it up into something neat. Instead, it grows out of the very places that tried to break us. It’s a quiet, resilient kind of beauty, one that allows the hurt to be woven into something greater.

For me, that beauty is found in hope.

Hope when everything feels hopeless.
Hope that what is broken will one day be made whole.
Hope that the pain will not last forever.
Hope that justice will come.
Hope that scattered pieces can be gathered and rebuilt.
Hope for healing, for relief, for restoration.
Hope that light will break through the darkness and a new day will come.
Hope that this, too, shall pass.

Hope in heaven.

And most of all, hope in the promise that one day, we will see again the loved ones we’ve had to let go.

So today, I can say it with confidence, maybe even shout it from the mountaintop:

Thank You, Lord, for turning the ugliness in my life into something beautiful.

 

 

Out of sadness and hurt, will come strength and victory.

11 Comments

July 23, 2015 · 10:39 PM

Morning Will Come

Brokenhearted…….
How can I bear the pain?
So many plans…permanently interrupted.
So many dreams….shattered.
Hopes…….dashed
All gone.
Why? Why this? Why us? Why me?
Helplessness…..hopelessness…
Life will never be the same again.
Is it even worth living?
Where are you, God?
I’m right here beside you, my child.
Even though you may not feel my presence,
I’m holding you close under the shadow of my wings.
I will walk with you through this dark night.
Do not shrink from weeping.
I gave you tears for emotional release.
Don’t try to hide your grief.
Let it become for you a source of healing,
A process of restoration,
For I have planned it so.
Those who mourn shall be blessed.
I’ll be holding on to you,
Even when you feel you can’t hold on to me.
Seek my face, child of mine.
Receive my promise, impossible as it may seem now,
That joy will come in the morning.
It may take time,
But I will heal your broken heart.
I know the night seems endless,
But MORNING WILL COME
I have promised.
—-From The Haven of Rest Newsletter
 
Note: I came across this poem and wanted to share it with my readers. Many times, we can’t see the light because of the overwhelming darkness, despair, grief, and pain. We wonder how long? How much more? When will it end? God, are you really there? Friends, please know that as long as you have a pulse, there is a purpose. As long as you have breath, there is hope. And as long as you’re in your right mind, there are possibilities. Under the shadow of His wings, stay the course. Full speed ahead!
 
Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.
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Filed under Encouraged Comfort, Hope For the Hopeless

Joy Comes in the Morning

My heart is heavy, Lord. I can’t go another day.

The sun is hiding its face from me. Dreams are shattered. My heart is torn. Sleep escapes me. My eyes are swollen from the never-ending tears. My head hangs low. My shoulders slumped over. My feet feel like they’re walking in concrete.

Yet You say: Trust Me.

I don’t know if I can hold on longer. I’m not sure I can take another step – another hour, another minute, another second. I can’t today, Lord. I feel like a failure. I have nothing left to give. This darkness doesn’t lift. There’s trouble on every side, darkness all around. The burden is too heavy. The valley is too long. The ocean too wide. The pit too deep. God, please don’t leave me like this! Don’t forsake me now! Whom do I have besides You, Lord?

Please, God. Help. Me. To live.

Yes, child, He whispers. I am here.

Maybe … just maybe, I’ll try again tomorrow.

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Personal Note: I felt compelled to jot these words down. I don’t know who this is for, but you know who you are. May hope arise within your spirit, and may you sense the Father’s peace as only He can grant in the midst of the storm. May He fill the void from within and heal the pain in your heart. Yes, He loves you just the way you are, but too much to leave you that way.

Love,
Mary A. ~

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Filed under Inspirational, Prayer