Tag Archives: Kindness

The Day My Shoes Made Me Feel Less Than

Some moments in life stay with you. Not because someone intended to hurt you, but because of how they made you feel.

Years ago, I went in for a job interview. Before the interview even began, I noticed the person who would be interviewing me taking a hard look at my shoes. They weren’t expensive, but they were clean, and I had done my best to look presentable. Maybe I read too much into it. Maybe I didn’t. But in that moment, I suddenly felt like I didn’t measure up.

I eventually got the job, but that moment stayed with me.

Later, someone I worked with was talking about the great deal they had gotten on their sports car. They mentioned the amount of money they had saved and asked if I thought they’d done well. All I could think was, what do I know about sports cars? If I had that kind of money, I could pay my rent on time and have groceries!

Another time, a grandchild of someone who worked there asked me, “Have you ever been to Paris?”

When I answered, “No,” she looked at me in complete surprise and said, “You’ve NEVER been to Paris?”

Although it stung, I smiled and answered her. She was just a child. I’m sure she wasn’t being rude. She simply couldn’t imagine someone who had never traveled there.

Looking back, I don’t believe any of these people were trying to make me feel “less than.” They were a little insensitive, maybe, but mostly they were living the life they knew.

What struck me each time wasn’t unkindness. It was a kind of blindness, being so at home in their own life that they couldn’t imagine mine. And I’ve had to ask myself: how many times have I done the same thing to someone else, without ever realizing it?

Still, those moments taught me something I’ve never forgotten: we don’t always know what someone else is carrying.

The person standing beside us may be worried about paying rent, buying groceries, caring for a sick family member, or wondering how they’ll make it through another month. They may smile, show up for work every day, and never say a word about their struggles.

That’s why humility matters.

Humility isn’t only about how we see ourselves. It’s also about being aware of others. It’s remembering that our experiences aren’t everyone’s experiences. It’s speaking with kindness and recognizing that what feels ordinary to us may be something someone else has never had the chance to know.

Those memories have made me more careful over the years. I hope they’ve made me more compassionate, too. I know I may not always get it right, but they taught me to be more mindful of the burdens others may be carrying.

The Lord has a way of teaching us through the uncomfortable moments in our lives. Sometimes He uses them to soften our hearts instead of hardening them.

When I think back to those shoes, I don’t remember feeling angry. I remember feeling invisible. “Less than.”

I never want to make another person feel that way.

May we be people who notice others, who speak with humility, and who remember that every person we meet is fighting battles we may know nothing about.

“Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord and He shall lift you up.” — James 4:10

May we never be the reason someone feels “less than.” Instead, may we reflect Christ’s kindness by seeing people, valuing them, and treating them with humility.

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Filed under Faith, life's lessons

A Word Fitly Spoken …

Re-reading this quote spoken to me so many years ago still brings up a sea of memories of a difficult place in time.

As you can imagine, I was going through hell. All along thinking I was alone, I never realized that God not only heard my cries, but He knew of my pain too! Just like the song goes: He was there all the time–and in my case–God used someone with skin to not only pray but to reach out to me in my darkest hour.

It seemed like forever that I was blinded and so discouraged; I really didn’t see a way out of my situation. But a neighbor, who quickly became a true friend, made me her business. She wasn’t condemning or pushy; she spoke life over me! She was caring and loving and wise beyond her years. She prayed much and gently wooed me back into the arms of my Heavenly Father. Eventually, I received the support I needed and slowly began to heal. Sanity and wisdom kicked in, and I did what I needed to do for myself and for the welfare of my small children.

What am I saying?

Image result for broken crayons image

I wrote Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace so that others might find hope beyond their hopelessness and despair. We’re all walking through something. We all have a story. Some are strong enough to stand on their own, while others need a little encouragement and help in finding their way. They may have been lied to, beaten down, some even to the point of isolation. Ever been ashamed of your pain? I was.

No matter what, you can rise above your circumstances. It takes a made-up mind and a determination to change. Allow your experiences to make you a better person, not a bitter one. Many times what we’ve gone through can help someone else to overcome his or her own struggle.

There are people around you hurting. Make them your business. A warm smile, a kind word, a gentle touch. Show them love. Give them hope. Be the hands and feet of Jesus.

Bloom where you’re planted.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jer. 29:11

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Filed under Christianity, encouragement, Kindness

My Guardian Angel

Torrential rain unnerved me as I drove along the highway. The downpour hammering on the roof of the car echoed in my eardrums. I turned up the radio. My car’s wipers were stuck at a slow speed, hindering my vision and distracting me. Driving in the far right lane, I leaned forward, both hands clutching the steering wheel, and wondered how late I—

Suddenly, the taillights in front glowed red. The driver slammed on his brakes. Automatically, I hit mine, but they locked up. The back end of the car in front loomed closer.

I cannot hit them! So, doing what any sensible driver would have done (or not), I aimed for the concrete divider, swinging sharply to the right.

My car plowed into that barrier. The tires screeched and drowned out the screams in my head. I skidded out of control at 180 degrees before stalling in the middle lane—facing on-coming traffic.

My world slammed to a stop.

The wipers still swished lethargically back and forth across the freshly cracked windshield. Music blared over the radio. My mind was in a daze; I glanced in the rear-view mirror.

FullSizeRender

I was thankful that Anna Marie appeared unscathed, apart from the fear in her moist eyes.

“It’s okay, Anna, don’t cry. Mommy’s gonna get us out of here.”

I made a quick assessment of the wreckage: the hood had flown open; the front end was caved in; the right headlights busted.

I rolled down the window to stick my head out and became drenched by pelting rain and the splash from a truck hurtling past.

Headlights from cars beamed as they swerved to miss us, terrifying me even more. Soaked and trembling with my nerves on edge, I thought, Lord, how am I going to get the car off the road without causing a bigger accident?

I wasn’t even sure my car would budge.

Vehicles roared by, but one slowed and stopped. With headlights practically blinding me, the driver left his emergency lights blinking; he exited his car and made his way toward me, hunkering down from the rainfall. He scanned the inside my car, his eyes alarmed, yet warm.

“Miss, are you all right? Is your little girl okay?”

“Yes . . . yes, I think so,” I scarcely heard my own voice say.

“Put your emergency lights on. Need to get you out of this traffic.”

I nodded and watched my angel head back to his car and pull over onto the shoulder. When the coast cleared, he ran across the freeway and opened my door. I scooted over. He climbed in behind the wheel and proceeded to veer my Plymouth across three lanes, out of on-coming traffic, and onto the shoulder. Finally, in reverse, he maneuvered my car to the off-ramp.

After prying the hood back down to shut it, I thanked my rescuer and climbed behind the wheel. I plodded down the road, praying a cop wouldn’t pull me over.

Years later I still recall: When I needed help the most, a total stranger—or perhaps a guardian angel—came to my rescue and showed me compassion.

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Filed under Guardian Angel, In Times Like This, Memoir, Running in Heels

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.

Today, this woman called out to a high school dropout. She was wearing a beautiful watch purchased from her son, a designer purse from her daughter, and an iPhone in her hand. She was wearing a sparkly diamond wedding band, nice clothes, shoes, manicured nails, and a fresh salon hairstyle, and she was 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 and 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 can enjoy many things I couldn’t before, and I have 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

Stranger or Guardian Angel?

Has anyone ever come to your rescue, just in the nick of time? Someone you didn’t even know?

I was a young Mom when my one-year-old daughter sat in the back of the car, half-asleep. I was late for my new job and had yet to drop her off at my dad’s house.

Torrential rain nerved me as I drove along the highway. The downpour hammering on the roof of the car echoed in my eardrums. I turned up the radio. As the water sloshed against the windshield, my car’s wipers, stuck on slow, hindered my vision and distracted me. Driving in the far right lane, I leaned forward, both hands clutching the steering wheel, and wondered how late I—

Suddenly, the taillights in front glowed red. The driver slammed on his brakes. Automatically, I hit mine, but they locked. The back end of the car in front loomed closer.

Lord, I cannot hit them! So, doing what any sensible driver would have done (or not), I aimed for the concrete divider, swinging sharply to the right.

My car plowed into that barrier. The tires screeched and drowned out the screams in my head. I skidded out of control at 180 degrees before stalling in the middle lane—facing on-coming traffic.

My world slammed to a stop.

The swishing wipers still swatted across the freshly cracked windshield. Music blared over the radio. My mind was in a daze, and I glanced in the rearview mirror. Apart from the fear in her moist eyes, I was thankful that my child was unscathed.

“It’s okay, Anna, don’t cry. Mommy’s gonna get us out of here.” But I hadn’t a clue as to how. I made a quick assessment of the wreckage: the hood had flown open, the front end caved in, and the right headlights were busted.

I rolled down the window to stick my head out and became drenched by pelting rain and the splash from a truck blurring past.

Headlights from cars beamed as they swerved to miss us, terrifying me even more. Soaked and trembling with my nerves on edge, I prayed, Lord, how am I going to get the car off the road without causing a bigger accident?

I wasn’t even sure my car would budge.

Vehicles roared by, but one slowed and stopped. With headlights practically blinding me, the driver left his emergency lights blinking; he exited his car and made his way toward me, hunkering down from the rainfall. He scanned the inside of my car, his eyes alarmed, yet warm.

“Miss, are you all right? Is your little girl okay?”

“Yes . . . yes, I think so,” I scarcely heard my own voice say.

“Put your emergency lights on. Need to get you out of this traffic.”

I nodded and watched my angel head back to his car, and pulled over onto the shoulder. When the coast cleared, he ran across the freeway and opened my door. I scooted over. He climbed in behind the wheel and proceeded to veer my Plymouth across the three lanes out of oncoming traffic and onto the shoulder. Finally, he maneuvered my car in reverse to the off-ramp.

With the help of the kind rescuer and some prying on the hood to shut it back down, I climbed behind the wheel again and headed towards Daddy’s house. I’m sure my stepmother’s heart came out of her chest at the sight of me driving a newly smashed-up car, with my baby girl in the backseat.

When I needed help the most, a total stranger-or perhaps a guardian angel—came to my rescue and showed me compassion. Something I will never forget.

(“For He will give His angels charge concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.” Ps 91:11)

© M.A. Perez, 2013, All Rights Reserved

4 Comments

Filed under Accident, Guardian Angel

What Happened?

To “Please” and “Thank You”?
To dinner at the table with the family at 5 or 6 PM?
To men holding the door open for women, helping her in her chair, walking on the outside of the curb, closing and opening the car door for her?
To saying, “I’m sorry” after offensives are made?
Going on a picnic at the park? Hand-written letters and thank you notes?
In having family devotions? Saying grace?
To walk on the beach?
Random acts of kindness?
A gentle hand? A kind word?
A warm embrace?
To Honesty? Respect?
Truth? Prayer?
Humility?
Commitment after the “I Do,” and “Till Death Do You Part”?
The Golden Rule?
Morals? Values?
Integrity? Or Honor?
In Saying, “I’m sorry.” “Forgive me.”
Where have they gone? Why did they go?
What has happened …
To Us?

© M.A. Perez, 2013, All Rights Reserved

5 Comments

Filed under Social, Values