Tag Archives: Musing

October 10, 2022 · 5:08 PM

On Borrowed Time

How time flies.

We’ve been caring for Mama in our home for the past 3 years. After spending the holidays with us like she’d normally do, she never returned to her apartment. Hubby and I noticed how frail she had become and the realization hit us both that she was going to need more assistance than what she’d been getting living on her own.

We do what we have to.

Our adult daughter, who also lives with us, is a tremendous help and caregiver for Mom, as well. My husband and I work full-time. Even with care providers, the bath-nurses, and medical folk checking in on Mom on a weekly basis, my daughter fills in the gap and then some.

Last year, after her doctor’s visit and blood work results, Mom’s doctor ordered that she be admitted to the hospital. Her blood pressure and blood count were dangerously low! During the four nights there, she received two units of blood and an iron infusion before returning home, along with her energy and appetite back! A year later, in August, it happened again – she was hospitalized and released. Soon after, I got medical POA, so when the repeated episode occurred a month later, this time, thankfully, Mom agreed to have an endoscopy procedure instead of coming home.

She had a mass in her stomach.

The dreaded cancer.

We cried, reminisced, and prayed.

Dr. Solomon would be Mom’s surgeon. We prayed non-stop for this physician and witnessed how he used wisdom in dealing with Mom’s delicate procedure beforehand. We placed our trust in him, knowing that the God we served–the Great Physician–was in control.

On the day of surgery, my husband, and children joined me. As they wheeled her off to surgery, I could see flecks of fear swimming in her eyes. I hoped she found strength in mine, howbeit my heart was heavy. You see, I became that little girl again. And I cried out to her, “Momma, come back to me!”

We waited in the waiting area for half a day, even when her surgery was over and she was in Post-Opt room. The good news, cancer did not seem to have spread to any other area in her body. However, they removed 80% of her stomach.

Mama remained in ICU for a couple of days and then moved to a private room. I remained with her spending the night as much as I could, giving her my love and support every chance. We have always had a complex relationship–she and I–but no matter what, she is still my mama and I will always be her little girl. ( To read more of my journey, click here… )

Today is Mama’s 88th birthday. Yesterday, Sunday, the family joined us to celebrate her life, surrounding her with our love and prayers. We wore matching T-shirts to honor her. I wanted her to feel our love and let her know how special she is. She is the matriarch of the family.

Today, Mom is being moved to Rehab for a few weeks for therapy and to become stronger. We continue to wait for the final pathology report, trusting the Lord will complete the work He has started in her; she is in His hands.

Life is fleeting. Let go of the petty things. Treasure your loved ones while they are still around.

I am comforted in knowing that when I am weak then my God is strong, and His grace is sufficient for me! Thank you, Lord, that your mercies are new every morning. Thank you, Lord, for another day.

8 Comments

Filed under gastric surgery, Personal

Tagged as cancer, Dr. Brett Solomon, Family, gastric surgery, inspiration, mom, Musing, personal, Prayer, the Great Physician

January 31, 2018 · 11:11 PM

Boricuas

We visited my paternal grandparents. My grandpa was Don Angel (pronounced “Annhel”), and my grandma, Doña María. Upon our arrival, we politely greeted them the way Daddy had taught us to, by asking for their blessing in Spanish:

“¿Bedición?”

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“¡Dios te bendiga!” they answered, opening their arms, smothering us with bear hugs and wet kisses.

Abuelo was born in 1908 and Abuela in 1907. Both were born in Utuado Puerto Rico and married in their early twenties, ultimately having ten children. Abuela stayed home attending to her brood while Abuelo supported his family as a farmer. (Rumor has it he made a little Moon Shine too). On twenty-five acres, he tended to bananas, tobacco, and coffee crops. He raised chickens and goats and even owned cows that he milked.

Daddy favored Abuelo; everyone said those two could be brothers.

(An excerpt from Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace)

My Reasons for Writing

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 that it was much better to let go of the bitterness and to 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 learned from them as well. 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 whenever I stumble, I can wipe the crud off and walk on. 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. Photo Credit: LifeOverCancerBlog.typepad.com

I mention family because the little girl growing up — although she may have felt like she was alone most times — she 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 real and raw emotions and mentioned the flaws — the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The story is not fiction. It is written about how she remembers the events that took shape in her life as a child, a teenager, and into her 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

I did not expect THAT answer

7 Comments

Filed under Memoir, writing

Tagged as Family, inspiration, memoir, memories, Musing, personal, rambling, writing

Video

Precious Moments

This simple video here will mean a lifetime of precious memories …

You see, Daddy is in the beginning stages of forgetfulness (I don’t like the word dementia). While his short-term memory may be failing, he still can recall things that took place several years ago. Those memories are forever embedded within the recesses of his memory bank. Daddy has always been a storyteller, just visit here https://maryaperez.com/2013/06/07/i-no-spic-inglish/

On my last visit, it dawned on me that I should record him recanting one of his many stories regarding his first job, and also touch on the quirkiness of that particular story. His mind was fully intact, and if he ventured off, I easily steered him back on track. After we were done, I replayed the recording back to him. As he watched it, he became animated with emotions as if the entire event became alive and he was actually reliving the story. He pointed with eyebrows raised, agreed with what was being said, laughed, and even had tears in his eyes! He looked up at me and said, “When your daddy is gone, you’ll always have this to remember, eh?”

Back home in Texas, every time I play this video, it brings back tears to my eyes. I realize the possibility that in the days to come Daddy may struggle with his memory more and more. I think often about my mama and other elderly members of the family. I wonder if we would record them interacting and then play back those recordings to them, that maybe it can help our loved ones remember. Just like hearing a song we haven’t heard in a while and the way it will bring us back to a certain place in time. One thing that does not work, is to belittle them because they forgot or behaved in a way than they normally would. I watched how when one of us tried to correct Daddy when he said something he shouldn’t have said, how it would escalate into such a ruckus. I noticed if the behavior was ignored or directed into something else positive, the drama pretty much ended. Sort of like in dealing with children …

His eyes still twinkle with glee, and the mirth in his thick Puerto Rican accent, combined with his animated personality is my daddy – I will love and cherish him forever!

7 Comments

December 6, 2017 · 7:50 PM

October 11, 2017 · 8:41 PM

Celebrating Mama

Someone said, crying is a way your eyes speak when your mouth can’t explain how broken your heart is.

We recently celebrated Mama’s birthday. While the company and the food were great, I saw Mama in a different light. It pained me to see her that way. Although she had a smile on her face, her eyes reflected pain and discomfort.

Mama is aging and more feeble with time. She’s more of a shut-in these days and she can barely move. Many thoughts go through my head, along with memories of my difficult childhood past. But that was then and this is now. Mama is Mama – and she’s my Mama. I’ll take her any way I can get her – flaws and all. Hell, I even have flaws! But what troubles me is not what she and I have gone through together; what troubles me is the present. She is fearful of saying what ails her. She doesn’t like the idea of going to a hospital, nor the thought of possibly living in a nursing home one day. She’d rather suffer alone than communicate about her ailments in a doctor’s ear. I don’t know what to do. She’s never been an easy patient and she is stubborn.

I. Feel. Hopeless.

I’m praying that the Lord shows us what to do and for Mama to be at peace. I just want her to know that she’s loved and that we want only the best for her. I need her to feel safe and secure and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt; she does not have to fear. Fear has torment. It will consume the mind and crush any hope one might dare to have. Fear troubles the heart and makes one weary.

I believe God is bigger than our fears. I believe He wants us to cast all of our troubles to Him and not grow weary. We are not immune to the sufferings of this life, but because of the Lord, there is always hope. All He asks is that we put our trust in Him and lay our burdens down at His feet. He says to trust Him and lean not to our own understanding. Not always an easy feat, I admit.

Words may escape me at times. I may grow impatient and miscommunicate my true intentions; my grit and courage may fall short. But while I have breath in my being I will never give up on the goodness of God! We are a work in progress. I know He will make a way. Look how far He has brought us – He’s not finished with any of us yet!

I. Feel. Hopeful.

I choose to allow forgiveness to remain in my heart. While Mama is still here, I will let her know that she is valued and loved. While it’s true our roles may have been reversed, she is still my Mama. And you know what?

I. Still. Need. My. Mama.

So, Mama, I celebrate you. Hand in hand, we will find a way to make everything all right.

I. Love. You.

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Note to my fans and followers
*** Running in Heels – A Memoir of Grit and Grace ***
*** LIMITED TIME OFFER *** .99cents *** Kindle Edition ***

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“The moment I started it, I had echoes of ‘The Glass Castle’. This is recommended for anyone who loved Walls’ memoirs, as they have some strong parallels.” – Kath Cross (blogger).

10 Comments

Filed under Birthday Mama

Tagged as Christianity, familia, Family, forgiveness, inspiration, Musing, personal, reflections, Relationships

July 12, 2017 · 9:41 PM

Pathway to Tears

I consider myself a tough cookie. After all, aren’t I a survivor? I’ve survived a few hard knocks along life’s path: A broken home by age three, followed by poverty, hunger, homelessness, alcoholism, neglect, loss of a sibling at age nine, two near-drowning incidents, in a car wreck, juvenile detention home, taunting, brawls, racism, alternative schooling, marriage to a ruthless man twice my age, bearing four children by the time I was twenty-two—three by cesarean—physical abuse, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, betrayal, hopelessness, despair, rejection, abandonment, being shot at (he missed), divorce, single-parenting …

BUT God!

Howbeit, there is a softer side to me as well. This thing called “tears”. A family member has even called me sentimental. I have been known to cry after losing a beloved pet, even an insect (hey, they make pets too, at least they did for me when I was a child). I recently cried when my husband surprised me with flowers after having a taxing day. I cried – or blubbered rather – after shooting my first deer. I may cry during weddings, engrossed in a book, listen to a song, or when watching a movie. I especially cry when I hear a newborn’s first cry, whether in real life or on TV, I can’t help it, the tears flow. I sometimes cry while laughing at something funny, opening up presents, when saying goodbye, praying, or worshiping and singing in church. Seeing majestic mountains, colorful rainbows, the stillness of the ocean, a fluffy kitten, or a hummingbird nestling nearby can make me cry. I even cried when I heard my grandchild call me “Mimi” for the first time. And yes, at times I cry when I’m hurt, scared, tired, or angry.

But I don’t want you to know that. Because I am tough. Not weak. Remember?

Now I’m not much of a horse person, but I know enough to know that a horse is full of grace and strength with every muscle, tendon, and ligament working in unison to support a rider at galloping speed. Yet, that same powerful, majestic horse is controlled by a bit in its mouth and will move in the direction the rider wants to go.

When I read about Moses, he was the meekest man who walked the earth. When I read about Jesus, He was all-powerful, yet kept that power in check. His meekness was not a weakness.

So, I say: It’s okay. It’s okay to let your guard down at times and reveal your softer, sensitive self. It doesn’t mean you’re a softy, a weakling, or a pushover. Power under control means self-control, and that is a virtue. After all, we are human with God-given emotions. Besides, God. Bottles. Our. Tears.

And because God loves us so much, I would venture to say:

Sometimes God cries.

Thank you, Lord, for loving me for me.

8 Comments

Filed under emotions

Tagged as horses, Jesus, life, Moses, Musing, personal, social, tears, virtue

May 9, 2017 · 6:00 PM

Confession of a Daughter

I still get jealous.

I confess.

After all this time, it pains me to admit this, but it’s true. Whenever I hear others express the close bond that they have with their mothers, I marvel at how grand that must be!

And it stings.

Mama used to say: “You can have ten fathers but only one mother.”

I heard that line growing up and believed it. After my parents divorced, I had three different step-dads. In my young state of mind, I didn’t want to share my mama — she wasn’t married to any of them. I wanted us to be by ourselves. But Mama was too busy for me. I’m sure she did the best she could, but nurturing wasn’t in her DNA. Left on my own a great deal, I was a neglected child.

Loneliness was my middle name.

At age nine, once we moved to Florida, my grandma was more like a mother to me. I knew then what a mother’s love felt like and it just wasn’t the same as Mama’s. Not long after my daddy remarried, during visitations, my stepmother loved and welcomed me with open arms. I felt special in her eyes. With Mama, sometimes I felt she didn’t even see me because she was so preoccupied. As I became older, bitterness festered and I wasn’t necessarily a role model teenager either. I just couldn’t wait to leave home and do better than Mama, in search of love. I fell flat on my face. But I learned some things.

I learned Mama was a prisoner in her own mind, but she did the best she knew to do. She felt I was always mature for my age, never realizing how much I needed her. I haven’t stopped loving Mama. I loved her then and I certainly love her now. But because I had no choice but to grow up too fast, our roles have always felt reversed. Most of the time, I felt like I was the mother.

The miles separate, the years have passed, and Mama and I both have since aged. I can look back and forgive my past; it has made me who I am today. I’ve had to learn to forgive Mama a hundred times over, whose harshness and demeanor become more passive and feeble with time. I must show her kindness and love. No, she’s not perfect, but neither am I.

Today, I am someone’s mother and grandmother, a.k.a. Mimi. I pray that my own loved ones will always feel my love, even when we don’t agree.

No matter what.

It takes work. Patience. Prayer.

And much forgiveness.

As for Mama and I: Our communication skills remain much to be desired. I’ll keep working on it.

Mother’s Day is around the corner. It has always been so complicated for me in choosing the right Mother’s Day card. Once again, I find myself putting the cards back on the shelf in search of the one that describes Mama perfectly.

I think I’ll continue to write one for her myself: 14572937_10211331684595701_5234886440039336664_n

To my one and only Mama.

I loved you then.

I love you now.

No matter what.

Love always, still your little girl.

11 Comments

Filed under Mother's Day, Mother/Daughter

Tagged as forgiveness, Mama, Mothers Day, Musing, patience, personal, personal growth, Prayer, Relationships

March 17, 2017 · 12:33 PM

Mediocrity

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I recently read about the curse of mediocrity … this so resonated with me! Truth be told, sometimes I just don’t feel right within myself, I can’t put my finger on it other than I know there really is no one else to blame. Ever have that “meh” feeling? Just want to veg out and chill and do nothing? Your mojo is gone! You say like Scarlett, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

I came across this poignant read in my devotions from Zig Ziglar and Dr. Ike Reighard in “The One Year Daily Insights.”

“Do you ever feel as if you’re going through the motions? Some of us, for any number of reasons, have lost our passion for work, God, our families, and everything else in our lives. We drag ourselves in after a long day and collapse on the sofa only to tune out in front of the television. We no longer want to change the world. The most we can muster is changing the channel.”

“Even if the stress levels in our lives are only slightly above optimum, our minds, hearts, and bodies eventually wear down, and all forms of energy in our lives dissipate. We used to be excited about this goal or that purpose, but no longer. We used to care deeply about this person or that cause, but not anymore. All we want is to be left alone or to find somebody or something that will give us a few moments’ pleasure. The curse of mediocrity ruins us and everyone we touch.”

“If your heart is lukewarm, step back, take stock of your stress level, notice any negative habits you’ve allowed to develop—and make changes. Don’t settle for mediocrity any longer, but don’t just add more activity to your life. To become fully alive again, you may have to eliminate even more than add.”

Zig Ziglar goes on to say:

“…the most miserable creature on earth is the fence-straddler trying to please God and man. He fails to do either and ends up not even pleasing himself, mush less his fellow man or his God.”

Wow! Maybe at times, we are so busy being too busy that we lose focus and sight of our purpose. We don’t take time for ourselves to regroup or to refuel. We become empty, burned out, and have nothing left other than leftovers to give to our loved ones let alone anyone else! I’m talking about doing the right things; we can still lose sight and forget the “whys” behind the drive. And who likes feeling as though they themselves are mediocre? Don’t even get me started! Anyone who has read my memoir knows I fought the feeling of being “less-than” for the majority of my life, and on occasion still fight this battle from within. But I refuse to remain on Mediocre Lane.

Listen, God don’t make junk. When He created you, He didn’t make anyone else like you. You are unique and a prize possession, the apple of His eye. Never give up on yourself. Sure, you will have some down days and you will reach a melting period, just don’t stay there! Let that sink in!

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4 Comments

Filed under Mindset, motivation

Tagged as devotional, Dr. Ike Reighard, mediocrity, Mindset, motivational, Musing, non-conformity, self-optimization, The One Year Daily Insights, Zig Ziglar

June 10, 2016 · 10:02 PM

Metamorphosis

My family was poor. As a child, by not owning four-legged friends, I grew an interest in the behaviors of tiny critters, such as insects. Curious at what lay beneath the ant piles, I liked to dig apart their colonies to watch the different activities of the workers, the soldiers, and the queen ant that I read about in books. I never developed a fear of grasshoppers, even if they spat “tobacco” on my fingers, or of handling caterpillars that pricked when they crawled on my hand, or of sneaking up on lizards that left their wiggling tails behind — I was too caught up wondering what the funny red thing on their throats going in and out was all about. My fascination for those critters was a favorite pastime.

Not all school projects were memorable, but I recall one that stuck with me for years. When the teacher assigned a report on any subject, I decided to pick caterpillars. On a large poster board, I drew the four stages of the butterfly: (1) egg, (2) larva, (3) pupa, and (4) adult. I described metamorphosis. Though it wasn’t a Picasso, my work earned a ranking on my school’s hallway wall, posted for all to see, with the highest mark in class: A+.

One sunny day at school during recess, I found a black, woolly caterpillar crawling in the shrubs and unafraid, gently placed it in my palm. A classmate asked to see what I held. When I opened my hand to show him, he whacked it so hard that the caterpillar flew out and disappeared onto a bush. And that’s when I morphed! Without hesitation, I slapped him on the face, hard. The boy stood stunned, mouth open.

As an adult, I often thought about the word metamorphose. It means to change completely in nature or form.

I think back to how alcohol deceived my loved ones, giving them a false sense of power. After drinking, like the caterpillar many years ago in my book report, they metamorphosed into social butterflies fresh out of their cocoon. They felt invincible, glamorous, or intelligent. Gone were the restraints that crippled them emotionally. They carried a false sense of bravado. It was then that they laughed wildly, conversed freely, and flirted openly.

The more attention and compliments they received from others, the less they knew the difference between genuine praise and mere flattery.

(A small excerpt taken from Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace. )

11 Comments

Filed under Behavior, Personal

Tagged as change, human behavior, life, memoir, metamorhosis, metamorphose, Musing

April 27, 2016 · 6:59 PM

Glamorous? Not so Much: My Life as an Author

I published my memoirs just last year. I’ve been fortunate enough to meet some really fine people along the way, people who’ve become fans of my work. I am thrilled when they ask for my autograph and want 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 such a humbling experience and never ceases to amaze me. But if I’m honest, stress also comes with the territory. I may tend to be a nervous wreck at times, 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 huge 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 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 are 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 whose hands are rough because he prefers doing the majority of the 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 she is not out on the field with him, she assists me with my writing projects in promoting my book. She is quite savvy in the social media department, as well as being my traveling companion to monthly book signings. I appreciate her. She is the lady behind the camera who makes me look good.

I myself hold a full-time, 45-hour-a-week sales job answering calls all day. My mind sometimes wanders wishing I was 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 all glamorous. What is it then, you ask? I will tell you since becoming a published author; I have found it quite rewarding and so 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, which leads me to have 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.

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