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
I accepted the invitation! I am thrilled to be part of Bruno’s Winery’s Art & Wine Event. This great community outreach takes place at 400Messinain Sour Lake, Texas. This event will occur on Saturday, October 4, 2025, from 10 AM to 3 PM. It will showcase vibrant creativity, stained glass, original artwork, custom jewelry, clothing, and more!
I’ll have copies of Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace available for signing. Come say hello! I’d love to chat about my journey. We can discuss everything from penning my memoir to its current translation into Spanish.
When: Saturday, Oct. 4, 2025 · 10 AM – 3 PM Where: Bruno’s Winery 400 Messina, Sour Lake, TX 77659 Admission: Free to the public
Learn more about our host venue and their award-winning, dessert wines → [brunoandgeorge.com] You’ll enjoy fine wine in the lovely, quaint property hosted by the phenomenal owners, Shawn and Misha Bruno.
Bring friends, family, or just your curiosity. I can’t wait to meet you.
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!
Gary Chapman is a well-known author, counselor, and radio talk show host on human relationships. According to him, there are 5 Love Languages. Each love language describes how we receive love from others. They are:
Words of Affirmation – Saying supportive things to your partner
Acts of Service – Doing helpful things for your partner
Receiving Gifts – Giving your partner gifts that tell them you were thinking about them
Quality Time – Spending meaningful time with your partner
Physical Touch – Being close to and caressed by your partner
While reading “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman, he explains how the concept of love can be very confusing. We love activities, objects, animals, nature, and people. We even fall in love with love. He points out that we use love to explain behavior. “‘I did it because I love her,’ says a man who is involved in an adulterous relationship. God calls it sin, but he calls it love. The wife of an alcoholic picks up the pieces after her husband’s latest episode. The psychologist calls it co-dependency, but she calls it love. The parent indulges all the child’s wishes. The family therapist calls it irresponsible parenthood, but the parent calls it love.”
Now I’m not by any means of the imagination, a psychologist, a professor, a clergywoman, or a counselor. I am just an ordinary woman. I’m a wife, mother, daughter, sister, cousin, grandma, aunt, friend, neighbor, coworker, and recently a great-grandma. But, like many, I think we often speak the wrong love language. I definitely have.
In my youth, I did some stupid things out of “love” for a guy. And because I loved him, I thought, surely he will come to my way of thinking. He would love me in return, enough to change his behavior and better himself. After all, hadn’t I bent over backward for him? Worshiped the ground he walked on? Become his doormat? In order to gain his undivided attention, I forgot who I was.
In my teens, I covered my former husband’s transgressions. I hid his secret, sin, and shame. My way of thinking was: This is why I exist, right? It’s my job, isn’t it? His wish was my command. Barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen – if only I knew how to cook then! My smile hid the pain in my heart, and makeup hid the bruises on my face. I hid the grocery money and emptied the liquor bottles, refilling half with water, hoping he’d never notice. I’d called his boss to say he was sick in bed after another blackout episode. I told myself: I protect my interests. I do it all in the name of “love.”
I was tired. Burned out. But because I loved my children, I eventually allowed them the freedom of choice. They started listening to the “hip” music their friends were listening to and watching certain types of movies. Oh, sure, I just knew they were old enough and wise enough not to repeat negative behaviors. And yes, I was inconsistent, worn-out, and haggard. I even practiced tough love. I attended church activities and adhered to rules and schedules. Then I lost the victory in my own personal life. I tossed responsibility to the wind. I got lazy. It became every person for himself. I started doing my own thing. I felt defeated. Cold-hearted. Bitter. I had lost the battle as a wife. For a moment, I forgot there was still a war to fight. That war was called MOTHERHOOD.
That was many moons ago. I have moved on—my children are adults, and I am in my second marriage, 31 years now. I continue to strive to communicate this language in a healthy manner. It is far from perfect, but I continue to improve. I aim for a method that allows me to love, if even from a distance, without being overly legalistic.
These are my rambling thoughts as I reflect on Gary Chapman’s perspective on the language of love.
I am thrilled to announce the winner of our holiday giveaway for “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace.”
🏆 Congratulations to Andy Valadez! 🏆
Andy has read many wonderful books, and I’m honored that my memoir is part of his collection. Check out this fantastic picture of Andy with his stack of books, including “Running in Heels”!
A huge thank you to everyone who participated and showed their support. Your enthusiasm and love mean the world to me. For those who didn’t win this time, stay tuned—there will be more exciting opportunities and giveaways in the future.
As we approach the holiday season, I want to share a meaningful gift idea. It is my memoir, Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace. This book continues to resonate with readers around the world with its powerful story of resilience, faith, and forgiveness.
📖 Perfect Gift for the Holiday Season
If you’re looking for a heartfelt gift this year, look no further. Running in Heels is a testament to the human spirit and the ability to overcome incredible odds. It’s a perfect choice for friends, family, or even yourself.
Here’s what readers are saying:
“A moving and uplifting journey that will stay with you long after you turn the last page.” – K. Nelson
“Stunning! Riveting. Raw. The story will break open your heart with Mary’s vulnerability and strength.” – Boymama
“This book will make you grateful for the life you have as you walk through the pain and heartbreak that Mary went through. You will be moved.” – Howard Partridge
To spread even more holiday cheer, I’m hosting a giveaway! For every book purchased, you’ll be entered for a chance to win a digital download of my audiobook. Simply share this blog post, tag me on social media, and show proof of purchase. Winners will be announced on January 15, 2025.
Let’s inspire others with this incredible journey. Whether for yourself or as a gift to a loved one, this memoir brings hope and inspiration. Thank you all for your continued support! 💖✨
We affectionately called her Mrs. C. In her sixties, with remarkable zeal, she possessed a charisma and a gregarious personality. She was a Bible teacher, an author, a missionary, a powerhouse, and a woman of great faith. She exuded genuine friendship in a Godly persona and took me under her wings. She held many prayer meetings in her home. Often, she prostrated herself on the floor on her face, interceding on behalf of others. She became my lifesaver, my spiritual mother. I counted on her for spiritual advice and much-needed counseling throughout the years.
On one dreary afternoon, the sky, along with my hope and faith, grew overcast. Suffering from battle fatigue, I sat in Mrs. C’s den. I told her I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
“I can’t take it anymore,” I confessed, wringing my hands.
Patiently, unassuming, and non-judgmental, Mrs. C handed me a tissue and gave me time to release the dread and pain in my heart.
“I’ve tried everything. Done all I know to do. Yet nothing seems good enough.”
“Has he stopped hitting you?”
I sighed, much relieved that he had. “Oh, yes.”
“Mary Ann, you know he loves you, in his own way,” she began, “but you have become ‘weary in well-doing.’ In your mind’s eye, you’ve conceded it’s not worth it.”
She honed in on my sentiments. I hung my head in shame.
“You know,” she insisted, “it is worth it all.”
At that moment, I wished I were stronger and smarter and that Mrs. C wasn’t so wise and couldn’t read me so well. “But shouldn’t this be a two-way street?” I suggested.
“Are you and the kids better off without him?”
I figured she knew the answer before I did. “We . . . we have nowhere else to go.”
“Are you better off without him?” she repeated and handed me the tissue box.
“I can’t afford to do anything else.”
“Are you better off without him?”
No,” I whispered and wiped my nose.
I felt weak and inadequate as a Christian wife. I struggled to keep a measure of peace and sanity in my household with four children. I was also tending to a man wrestling with his demons.
“Then, go home and be the best wife and mother you know how to be,” she said.
Sometimes, it’s easier to talk the talk than to walk the walk.
“But first,” she added, “I want to pray for you.”
That woman knew how to enter the Throne Room of God in her prayers. Electricity surged through my entire body when she touched me as she prayed. Before I left, she handed me her book, Wives, Unequally Yoked. I figured reading couldn’t hurt; plus, the title intrigued me. I’d already devoured The Total Woman, by Marabel Morgan. Much like my Bible, the pages were worn and underlined with a yellow marker.
I didn’t leave Mrs. C’s company the same way I arrived. Resolved in my heart not to become bitter, I determined to be better and left strengthened, with a made-up mind.
I’ve always felt thatMrs. C was my person, who soon became like a spiritual mother to me. I went to her broken and wounded. She never made me feel less than. She believed in the best for me and allGod had to offer. This lady was full of wisdom and knew how to bombard heaven on your behalf! How I miss our intimate conversations. {Mary Anne Copelin: Aug. 30, 1926 — Dec. 4, 2017}
“Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” Vicki Harrison
She was weak, frail, with no appetite. I prayed that Mama would make it to Mother’s Day. She did and left us at 3 pm on that very day! I believe she truly received the best gift possible. She no longer has any pain or discomfort. She doesn’t have to worry about anything or anyone else.
I had told her that I would, and I did. Three months had passed. With my immediate family, I took some of Mama’s remains to bury. We placed them alongside her parents, my grandparents. We also buried her next to my baby sister. She was tragically struck down by a hit-and-run driver at the tender age of two, some 55 years ago.
Everyone expresses life and death differently. What we did was another way to honor Mama and her memory. I know that Mama is in heaven, and not in a shallow grave. You see, doing this was more about healing for us. We are at peace knowing we did something to honor her life. Through it all—and there were many bumps in the road—Mama was loved, and she is now with her Savior. In the end: Love. Won!
"Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me.In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go you know, and the way you know.”
John 14:1-4
The Spanish translation of Running in Heels is complete—but the journey isn’t over. This memoir of grit and grace is being prepared for publication in Spanish, to reach hearts across cultures and generations. From family setbacks to divine provision, every step has been a testimony.
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It’s That Time Again! 
Available on Amazon: 
From Heart to Heritage
Reflections From the Heart 