Tag Archives: memoir

February 19, 2022 · 12:52 PM

Reflecting

So, I’ve been away from posting any new materials of late. One of the reasons is that I have been quite busy in my spare time, trying to translate my memoir chapters into Spanish. One of the hardest and most tedious tasks for me thus far. I couldn’t do it without the help and reliance upon others. Initially, I sought the ‘professionals’ and their prices were sky-high, too rich for my blood. My reality check. I then requested help from family and friends, and even after telling me yes, are too busy and couldn’t commit.

Well, my son’s new girl in his life dove right in and is taking on the task. And recently, wouldn’t you know it, I have another friend and her mother looking over the chapters. I am far from finished and know that I will have to find professional editing afterward. But I am up to the challenge.

So many sentences, chapters, and conversations across every page of my memoir come alive and I find myself reliving almost every word. I find myself touched and tears roll down my face. You see, it hits me – I’ve survived so much! Indeed, God has been good to me; a constant steadfastness in my unstabled life. God is the God of miracles.

“¡Respondeme!” Me dio una bofetada de revés.
Vi estrellas.

The above quote is just a tiny picture of what once was … I will retell my story so that others may know hope, and about the God of second chances and new beginnings. If He can do it for me, He can certainly do it for you!

“Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace” (PAPERBACK)
(in AUDIO)

I also have another future writing project that will share the stories of other survivors.

Pray for me. And stay tuned.

Thanksgiving – 2021

Retrospecting can be a good thing. Last year, on Thanksgiving Day, I remember feeling sad and a bit irritated. The reason: we were not having our regular holiday family gathering due to the Covid Pandemic restrictions. My emotions floundered all over the place. I did my best to focus on the positive. I even wrote this message to my family and friends:

If I am to be honest, I’ve been bummed out for a couple of days, knowing I would be missing our traditional, family Thanksgiving Day celebration in our home, which has always filled my heart with so much joy. Instead, I must choose to focus on what I have and count my blessings, giving God thanks and glory for all in my life!

Even on my worst days, He loves me! I have known Him in the valley, I have known Him on the mountaintops. While I love being on the mountaintops, it was trudging in the valleys where I grew closest to my Lord, and where I learned that the God on the mountain is still God in the valleys.

I am thankful He has given me health, provision, shelter, a loving husband, a beautiful family, and wonderful friends – He has made many dreams come to fruition.

I am a work in progress. Thank you, Lord, for not having given up on me, and I know You’re not finished with any of us yet.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS!!!

“In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thess 5:18

Jump over to the present:

I am happy to report that this Thanksgiving Holiday, the day turned out to be special in so many ways. Yes, I am truly grateful for my loved ones. You see, while we celebrated the holiday with prayer, food, and fellowship, I glanced around the table, caressing my eyes over each face representing my family. And I realized: Mary, you’re not alone anymore. You see, as a kid growing up, I once felt alone and rejected. Matter of fact, I felt insignificant, always on the outside looking in. I had many insecurities and felt much like second-class. It wouldn’t be until many years later in my adulthood, that I experienced inner healing and received a breakthrough in my personal life. So much so, I put my story to pen and paper and published my book, “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace.”

We did something different this year, thanks to my youngest daughter’s prompting. We each held a strip of paper of questions we took turns reading out loud and then answering. This was epic because the questions caused most of us to dig deep and open up with heartfelt answers.

As I listened to the different ones share, I felt my heart would burst with gratitude in hearing my children speak over me. I wasn’t prepared for this raw reaction, nor was I prepared for what I would say when my turn came. I found that I was able to share my heart with thankfulness and humility. I blessed each of my children and grandchildren and expressed to them what I appreciated about them. I blessed my husband for being the man that he was and, again, for accepting somebody else’s children by stepping up to the plate another man left on the table. And finally, I turned to my mom and expressed my undying love for her, no matter though our relationship is a complex one. I also asked her forgiveness for getting short with her, and I assured her that I will always be her little girl.

We are all flawed. But we can rise above stinking-thinking and look beyond ourselves. Take a look at others, really see them, and love on them. I thank the Lord for making all things new – His mercies are new every morning!

Thanksgiving 2021
“Family is the best thing you can ever wish for. They are there for you during the ups and downs and love you no matter what.”
“A mother is she who can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take.”
“The best time for new beginnings is now. Thank you Lord, for new beginnings.”
“Let’s be thankful together. Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family.”
“So, there is this boy he kinda stole my heart- he calls me ‘Mimi.'”
“Granddaughters are angels sent from above to fill our hearts with never ending love.”
“Always remember whose daughter you are. Stand tall and straighten your crown.”
“Happy Birthday to my beautiful eldest daughter, more like a sister to me.”
“Thank you, Lord, for Your bountiful blessings.”

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Filed under Reflections From the Heart, Thankfulness, Thanksgiving

Tagged as blessings, encouragement, Family, grateful, gratitude, humility, I Thess 5:18, life, memoir, personal, Psm 136:1, Thanksgiving Day

September 21, 2021 · 8:42 AM

Always On My Mind

I remember first holding you, so tiny in my arms.
Next thing I knew, you turned two, angelic, and quite a charm.
Your silhouette dancing 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.
Thinking about you often before crawling into bed at night,
I loved you so much, never wanting 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, if only, I could see you now,
I would run to you, hold you tight, and twirl you around!

Oh, sister, there will always be a hole in my heart,
But I guess I knew that from the start.
If I still had you now to talk with, share secrets with, laugh, and cry
I would not be here now thinking: Why? Why did you have to die?

Dear Readers:

As we approach the anniversary of my baby sister’s life and death, what I have shared is very dear and personal to my heart. As my eyes mist with tears, I still feel my heart burn heavily from missing her! But please understand that I do NOT “blame” God for my sister’s death! Our God is Sovereign and I believe that He allows certain things to happen to us for His greater plan and purpose. (Isa. 57: 1). After all, His ways are higher than our ways.

Now, I’m not by any means a theologian, a preacher, or a Bible teacher. I’m just a layman, a simple woman of faith, with a finite mind trying to serve an Infinite God. I know that it rains on the just and unjust (Matt. 5:45); bad things do happen to good people.

If I am to be honest, I don’t always understand the mind of God. Howbeit, I purpose in my heart to trust Him! And if I am to be truthful, yes, to this day my heart does have a few unanswered questions. On occasions, in my journey of life, I have meltdowns, wallow in self-pity, and find myself clouded by doubts and fears. However, because of His steadfast love and His unfathomable mercy for me, I thank God that I don’t have to remain in that state of mind!

You see, I am a work in progress.

In memory of my sister who prematurely passed away 53 years ago by a hit-and-run driver. (To learn more of her story, click here.) She would have been ten years older than my first-born daughter! I had to say goodbye to my little sister when I was nine, just a month after she turned two years old. I remember so much pain and suffering as a child back then. In retrospect, I believe God may have spared her from something worse. I look forward to the Blessed Hope that some day we will embrace one another once again. She will not return to me, but I will go to her one day. (II Sam 12:23). And we will NEVER have to be apart.

2 Comments

Filed under Bereavement, Personal

Tagged as baby loss, death, Faith, Family, hit-and-run, hope, life, Loss of a Loved One, Matthew 5:45, memoir, mourn, Poetry, sibling loss

September 11, 2021 · 9:47 AM

I Remember

By 2001, I had worked for two years for a reputable high-end carpet cleaning company. I started out as a receptionist and was then promoted to inside sales. I sported around in a Jeep Grand Cherokee and I’d been married for seven wonderful years. Mark had become a devoted Christian, and we attended church as a close-knit family. In April, we purchased our home southwest of Houston in Fort Bend County. Five months later, while driving to work, my tranquil life was interrupted by distress and unexpected terror.

On September 11^th, around 7:50 in the morning, I heard on the radio that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York. As soon as I arrived at the office, I flicked on the TV to see the live broadcast of a massive hole in one tower caused by the plane’s impact. Co-workers gathered around and we couldn’t peel our eyes away from the screen. Black smoke billowed out of the building, soon engulfed by flames.

We heard what we didn’t want to hear and continued to see unbelievable images that will forever be etched in our minds. My heart plummeted as I saw a second plane hit the other tower. Buildings collapsed minutes later and we all gasped in horror knowing that hundreds—thousands—lost their lives.

That night, President Bush spoke powerful words: “Freedom itself was attacked this morning by a faceless coward, and freedom will be defended.”

Freedom isn’t free, I thought, and freedom is worth any cost.

I remember. Do you?

Your turn:

What is your memory of that fateful day?

¡El Chupacabra!

“I can draw just as good as our uncle can, or you,” Big Brother Ruben said matter-of-factly.

“No, you can’t,” I corrected.

“Can too.”

“Cannot.”

“Can—”

“¡Niños! Callense ya!” Grandma cut in. “Dis is why you two can’t be together.”

Ruben and I looked at each other, puzzled by what she meant. But this statement became the reason Ruben and I usually had to trade places during Daddy’s visitation. Because we siblings horsed around and played too “wildly” together, when our daddy would come for me to go to his house for the weekend, he’d drop Ruben off to stay with our grandparents or with Mama. This was the normal arrangement. On rare occasions, we visited together.

My brother loved to tease me to get a reaction out of me. One weekend together at Daddy’s was no exception.

“Com’on, will ya?” Ruben impatiently waved his arm as if it would fall off, standing with the bathroom door open.

Curiosity got the best of me. “Hold your horses,” I said, trying to sound like Mama.

Big Brother looked like the cat that swallowed a pigeon, a canary, or something.

“You better not be foolin’ me,” I warned.

“Don’t be so sentimental,” he said, practicing the use of big words.

“Am not.”

“Are too. And you’re never gonna guess what’s in here.”

“Can too.”

“Can not.”

“Gimme a hint.”

Ruben shook his head. “Negative.”

“Cuz, it’s gonna be nuthin’.” I stomped my foot and crossed my arms, dying to know what was inside. “You just tryin’ to trick me.”

He stood in front of the closed shower curtain and held onto it. “Ready?” Ruben asked, with eyes wide.

“Go on . . . it ain’t nuthin’.”

“It’s too . . . it’s—” With one swoop, Ruben yanked the curtain and cried, “¡El Chupacabra!”

I let out a long scream at the huge form floating in the tub.

Daddy came running out of breath. “¿Qué fue?” he demanded. “What’s wrong? What happen here? ¡Caramba! I hear you all da way outside.”

“Daddy, Ruben told me it’s ‘El Abra Ca Dabra, the goat sucker,’” I whined, mispronouncing the word.

“¿Qué? ¡Oye! What s’matter wit you?” Daddy demanded in his accent. “Why can’t you play nice? You dun do dat to your sister.” He popped Ruben on the head with his hand.

My brother flinched but kept grinning at me, mouthing the words, “boba,” before he disappeared.

“Mija, you know what dis is?” Daddy asked, holding me by my shoulder.

“It’s a pink, dead pig!” I screeched. “Why is he in the tub of water?”

“Gloria is goin’ to make pernil. We gonna eat him.”

“Roasted pig? No, Daddy, that’s yucky.”

“Whachu talkin’ ‘bout? I betchu never had it before,” he said, closing the shower curtain. “You’ll see,” he winked, taking my hand. “It’s gonna be so good.”

If my daddy said something, he was usually right.

It was yummy.

Excerpt from “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace“, Chapter 7 – Big Brother

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Tagged as Boricua, El Chupacabra, familia, Family, Latino culture, memoir, Puerto Rican folk tale, sibling rivalry

September 16, 2020 · 9:41 PM

Laughter is the Best Medicine

“It was a special night for me in Sugar Land, TX, while visiting with sis, I got to see my Special friend, and my favorite Author, of my favorite book! Mary A. Pérez, the author of my favorite book, “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace.” Mary Ann is definitely my hero! I know one day this will be made into a movie.

While reading this book, there was not an emotion I didn’t feel. But the best part of all ~ It has a beautiful and happy ending!” ~ Rhonda Irvin

Note by Author:
Such a joyous moment. What can I add but to say: It does my heart good, knowing that my story – flaws and all – has blessed another. I shared my memoir that others may know that there is help for the helpless, hope for the hopeless, and forgiveness for the inexcusable. Contrary to popular belief, your past does not define your future. With God, ALL things are possible! In Him we live, move and have our being!

1 Comment

Filed under Author, Memoir

Tagged as author Mary A Pérez, book lover, book worm, encouragement, Faith, fans go furthur, hope, inspiration, memoir, overcomer, victory

August 23, 2020 · 1:29 PM

In the Midst of the Storm

Hurricane Cleo struck Miami with 100-mile-per-hour winds in late August 1964. Fallen branches and debris flew across the yard. The pelting rain rattled against our old wooden door and the thin, sheet glass-pane windows.

My stepdad, Jimmy placed a dresser against the front door to our efficiency apartment to keep it from flying open. Mama and I hunkered down in the dark bathroom like cornered animals. I sat on the floor with my knees pulled up. I covered my ears with my hands, trying to drown out the deafening gusts of wind and my mama’s panicking cries.

Yet in the same instant that I closed my eyes, the thoughts tumbled through my mind: Gosh, today is my birthday; I am five years old. Mama said I’m a ‘big girl’ now.

_______________________________________________________________

In the year 1969, ten days before my tenth birthday, the second most intense hurricane on record hit the United States. Hurricane Camille, a Category 5, had all of South Florida feeling her wrath.

My step-daddy, Mama, and I took shelter in the gymnasium of Miami Edison High School. Many people talked in loud voices. Confused and frightened children fussed and cried as they clung to their mama’s skirts and their daddy’s necks to ride out the storm.

On a floor mat, I sat glancing around, clutching my raggedy doll and our meager chow in a sack: a single loaf of Wonder Bread and a jar of Welch’s Grape Jelly. When My step-daddy suggested that I offer some to another girl close by, I recoiled. You see, even in normal times, sharing food wasn’t so easy for me.

Comfort and tranquility were as far away from me as the moon and blew past like shingles from the roofs of so many of the homes that felt Camille’s fury.

The above are excerpts of my memoir. Even after all these years later, I still get a bit skittish during rainstorms, let alone hurricanes. Me no like, and as you can see, have never liked them.

Currently, the National Hurricane Center forecast are saying–not one but–two storms are brewing in the Gulf of Mexico! What if they collide with each other and spin around each other, becoming one? This Texas Two-Step is known as a Fujiwhara effect. Go figure!

My heart and prayers go out to all those affected by these storms; whatever type of storm they may be: sickness, trials, trouble, distress, turmoil, heartache or pressure. This is not easy for everyone–me included–but may I encourage you to allow God to give you peace in the midst of the storms.

I am reminded what scripture says: Isaiah 26:3-4: “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You; because he trusts in You. Trust in the Lord forever: for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength.”

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d0/e5/d2/d0e5d2990f98360a0c67f7705984db83.jpg

4 Comments

Filed under storms

Tagged as distress, encouragement, Fujiwhara effect, hurricane, Isa. 26:3-4, memoir, Prayer, reminiscing, storms, trials

May 5, 2020 · 8:00 AM

She Hurts No More …

A horrific day for our country. In shock, I watched the Space
Shuttle Challenger breaks apart and burns just seconds into its
flight. Five men and two women tragically lost their lives for
the good of all humanity. They lived their dream by serving
others. I may not have known them personally, but they died
as heroes.

Three months later, on April 3, 1986, sickness reduced an
eighty-six-year-old unsung Puerto Rican woman to skin
and bones as she lost her bout with cancer. She wasn’t affluent.
Refined. Or famous. But she was loved. Adored. And my
heroine.

When Mama called me and told me about Grandma’s final
moments, sobs stuck in my throat. She expressed how she
had sat at my grandma’s bedside, terrified, while listening to
her breathing in short, laborious rasps.

“Your grandma’s parting words were, ‘God is calling me
now,’ and then she gazed up at the ceiling.” Mama spoke dolefully.
“So, I asked her, ‘How do you know?’ But she didn’t
speak anymore. She closed her eyes and I held her close.”

Mama’s trembling voice was broken by sobs. “I . . . told her
that I loved her. And I said to her, ‘You carried me for
nine months.’”

I pictured that heart-rending image of Grandma’s gentle
countenance and Mama struggling to convey her love to her.
And I thought, Oh Mama, she carried you longer than nine
months. My insides ached, knowing that in her heart and
prayers, Grandma carried us all.

My grief came in waves. Looking back, I know God spared
me from becoming hopelessly morbid and consumed with
anguish. Grandma wouldn’t have wanted that. Knowing she
no longer suffered, I believed her final heartbeat didn’t mean
the end but the beginning!

I wanted to celebrate her life when I journeyed back to
help with her memorial.

Once a plump woman, Grandma had lost so much weight
in her final days. She had always loved a simple white Easter
dress that belonged to me and requested that when the time
came we’d bury her in it. My dress fitted her perfectly then. I
also asked that everyone wear white instead of the customary
black garments at her funeral.

White carnations—Grandma’s favorite—covered her
opened casket. I stood, my eyes caressing her still face, now
so thin. Vivid images of her life jumped into my thoughts. I
saw her on her knees pleading with God to be merciful to her
loved ones. I recalled her many prayers of gratitude for another
day. I pictured her lips mouthing the holy scriptures as she read her
Bible, with her index finger pointing to the sentences across
the worn pages. I could still hear the sound of her soft voice
calling my name. I remembered the merriment of her laughter
after listening to one of my silly jokes.

Hot tears blinded me and I couldn’t blink them away.
In my mind’s eye, Grandma came to me. I could hear her.
Feel her. Touch her. Her love, her hugs, and her kisses embraced me.

We honored her memory and her passing from this life
into the next.

A gentle breeze blew the heat of the day; the sun hid behind
the clouds. The scent of rain permeated the air.
As it started to drizzle, my heart was comforted. Grandma always
considered it a good omen if it rained on the day, someone
laid to rest.

Before long, her coffin lay in a crypt next to her cherished
husband, my grandpa.

At last, Grandma’s labors had ended. Thank God, she
hurt no more.

(Excerpt from Chap. 37 “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace” by Mary A. Pérez)

Footnote: Dear Readers, on this Mother’s Day coming up, gone from us for more than three decades, I remember my precious grandma who I mentioned in my book. Matter of fact, both Mama and I miss her terribly. Grandma was the undisputed, caring matriarch of our familia; a ray of sunshine in our entire existence. She rarely complained or thought about herself. She was a selfless soul, showering love and kindness to others. Impeccable in my eyes, she truly was our unsung hero. We cherish her memories.

1 Comment

Filed under heroine, Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace

Tagged as death, heroine, memoir, memory, Mothers Day, reflection, reminiscence

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Are Audiobooks Worth It for Authors?

Thank you Ella for a wonderful write up and sharing my journey as an author.

Are Audiobooks Worth It for Authors?

It’s not enough that Mary Ann Pérez released a paperback, hardcover, and e-book of Running in Heels, her autobiography of grit and grace in the shadows of her mother’s choices and her own abusive marriage. And it’s not enough that she has been visiting book clubs and appearing at book signings around Houston since its release in 2016.

Her audience wants more. They want an audiobook.

But is an audiobook worth the investment for an author?

Some say yes . . .

The popularity of audiobooks is on the rise – and not just with Pérez’s followers. Fifty percent of consumers say they’ve opted for an audiobook in the last year. They like the ease and ability to multi-task. Seventy-seven percent of people say audiobooks help them finish more books.[1]

Advocates of audiobooks point out that… (Read more…)

1 Comment

December 6, 2019 · 6:00 PM

October 20, 2019 · 12:00 AM

Touched by an Angel

I ADORED MY little sister growing so fast. To see her beaming face at the window highlighted my day after school. She always reached up to carry my books, no matter how heavy. After we shared a snack, then time for homework. Anna took naps or played alone, while I finished my studies. Then we’d go out for a walk.

She loved the outdoors. Our outings became adventures—it made me feel good to see her hopping and skipping alongside me. If something piqued her curiosity, we stopped, whether it was to find a fallen bird’s nest or to watch a worm squirm under a rock to hide. We’d listen to the mockingbirds while we gathered sprigs of white wildflowers, and the red hibiscus and puffy yellow marigolds in bloom, smelling their fragrance before taking some home for Mama.

Anna cheerfully greeted everyone we passed. “What a beautiful angel she is,” they’d say. Her enchanting smile and deep blue, watchful eyes mesmerized me. The warmth of her merry laughter penetrated hearts, including mine. “She’s my sister,” I’d proudly boast. Anna’s countenance radiated joy. I cherished her carefree spirit and relished her innocence.

Since Mama stayed in bed until the afternoons, Anna and I usually ate a bowl of cornflakes for breakfast. We’d watch Sesame Street on the black-and-white tube. Whenever Big Bird appeared, my sister squealed and clapped. Then when Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood came on, we sang along with him.

We ate our meals sitting on cushions on the floor. We didn’t have a scheduled time to eat. Chow time consisted of simple bologna sandwiches, a heated can of SpaghettiOs, or sometimes a can of tomato soup. On special occasions, we ate Swanson chicken TV dinners.

Mama expected me to care for my sister. In the evenings, when she and Jimmy went out, Anna and I stayed home by ourselves. We’d lay on the floor to color or play inside our blanket tent, having tea parties with our plastic cups. I sometimes read aloud, making up the words I didn’t know. We stayed up until we grew sleepy.

Whatever we did, doing it together was more fun than being alone.

One particular evening, as I gazed into my sister’s baby-blues, a sudden feeling of sorrow swept over me. Tears clouded my eyes. Something burned within my chest. I cried out, “Please God, don’t let nothing bad happen to her!”

Anna gazed at me with her gentle, trusting eyes.

“I’ll protect you,” I whispered to her. “For always.”

Before bedtime, we repeated a child’s prayer Grandma taught me, one that hung on the wall:

“. . . I pray thee, Lord, my soul to keep . . .”

That night I clung to my sister and kept the strange premonition to myself.