Tag Archives: reflection

August 18, 2026 · 1:59 PM

I Don’t Know What To Do!

I don’t know what to do today.
Perhaps I’ll go outside and play,
or stay indoors and watch TV,
or take a bath, or climb a tree.

Or maybe I’ll go ride my bike,
or pick my nose, or take a hike,
or jump a rope, or scratch my head,
or play a game, or stay in bed,
or dance a jig, or pet the cat,
or drink some milk, or buy a hat,
or sing a song, or read a book,
or change my socks, or learn to cook,
or dig a hole, or eat a pear,
or call my friends, or brush my hair,
or hold my breath, or have a race,
or stand around and slap my face. 

I’m so confused, and bored, and blue,
to not know what I ought to do.
I guess that I should just ask you.
So, what do you think I should do?

I came across this children’s humorous poem about not knowing what to do, and it immediately transported me back to the days when my kids were little.

Back then, outside of TV, the only technology we had was the Atari. We played games like Pong and Asteroids, does anyone remember those? But honestly, some of my favorite entertainment had nothing to do with any of that. It was watching my kids make up their own fun, especially when they were doing aerobics in the living room and calling out:

“Watch me, Mommy.”

“Mommy, look at this.”

“See what I can do, Mommy?”

Those little moments were priceless.

Today, my grown children each have their own unique gifts, talents, and personalities. I still love hearing from them, whether it’s through a phone call, text, or email. My heart still skips a beat whenever they achieve something wonderful. They continue to make me smile, and we still laugh together.

Children grow up so quickly. Blink, and suddenly you’re wondering where all the years went. Cherish those moments while you can.

(I originally shared this post back in 2013, but the memories are still just as special. Some things are worth revisiting.)

By the way, here’s a sketch I drew of my kids some 40 years ago.

Wasn’t it just yesterday…?

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July 2, 2026 · 8:00 AM

My Declaration of Dependence

Every Fourth of July, I look forward to the fireworks. There’s something about watching the night sky burst with color that never gets old. As a little girl, it was all about the excitement. As I’ve gotten older, it has become a reminder to pause and reflect on what freedom really means.

This year feels especially meaningful as our country celebrates 250 years of independence.

Like many Americans, I’m grateful for the freedoms we enjoy. But if life has taught me anything, it’s that there are chains no government can remove.

Fear.

Shame.

Bitterness.

Regret.

Those were the things that kept me captive far longer than I care to admit.

For years, I believed being strong meant handling everything on my own. Asking for help felt like weakness. Smiling through the pain seemed easier than admitting I was struggling. I carried burdens that were never mine to bear, convinced I could outrun my past if I just tried hard enough.

I couldn’t.

The greatest freedom I’ve ever experienced didn’t come from depending on myself. It came when I finally stopped pretending I had all the answers and placed my life in God’s hands.

That didn’t erase the painful chapters of my story. It didn’t rewrite my past. But it changed the way I carried it.

As I wrote in Running in Heels, healing isn’t about pretending the scars don’t exist. It’s about discovering that God’s grace is greater than the wounds we carry.

So while I’ll enjoy the hamburgers, watermelon, family laughter, and fireworks this Fourth of July, I’ll also be thanking God for another kind of freedom: the quiet, lasting freedom that comes from His love, His forgiveness, and His grace.

America’s founders signed a Declaration of Independence. Years ago, I made a declaration of my own. Not one of independence, but of dependence on God. It turned out to be the most freeing decision of my life.

Happy Independence Day, and may God continue to bless America.

Therefore, if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed.
— John 8:36 (NKJV)

American flag on a mountain peak at sunrise with hikers walking along a rocky path
Mi Declaración de Dependencia

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June 19, 2026 · 4:00 AM

A Daughter’s Reflection on Fatherhood

On this Father’s Day, my heart keeps returning to a kind of fatherhood that doesn’t always match the perfect pictures people post.

My parents divorced when I was young. I was only five or six when it became final. Mama raised me on her own, and I saw my daddy during visits when he’d come get me. My stepmother was there too, and thankfully, very loving. Those times were special, even if they were short. I always looked forward to them.

I loved it when Daddy took me to the park. And I especially loved his stories.

“Tell me the one about the goat sucker in Puerto Rico,” I’d say, already smiling.

His eyes would light up. “¡Oh, sí!” he’d exclaim, slapping his thigh. “¡El Chupacabra! Dis thin’ went around to all the animales, suckin’ their blood dry.” Then he’d lower his voice, warning me to close the doors because “El Chupacabra is comin’ to suck your blood!”

I’d giggle and called him “muy loco,” but those silly, animated moments made me feel close to him.

As a little girl, I was sure I had the best daddy in the world, even though he wasn’t there every day. Of course, there were moments I wanted more. More time. More ordinary days. More closeness. That distance left a quiet ache I carried for years.

But looking back now, I can see the pieces he did give me. He made me feel like I mattered. He showed up when he could. And somehow, those moments stayed with me.

I used to focus so much on what was missing that I overlooked what was there. Healing, for me, began when I started holding onto those small, good things instead of only replaying the absence.

I also came to understand something deeper: God meets us in the gaps people leave behind. Where love felt inconsistent, God was steady. Where presence felt limited, He never was.

This Father’s Day, I’m choosing gratitude for what I was given instead of dwelling on what I wasn’t. Thank you, Daddy, for the hugs, the park visits, the laughter, the wild stories, and the love that found its way to me, even across distance. I appreciate you now in ways I couldn’t as a child.

To every daughter whose story includes distance, divorce, or a father who wasn’t there as much as she needed: your feelings are real. The longing doesn’t just disappear. But there is still something good worth holding on to, and healing is possible.

And to the fathers reading this, whether you’re biological, step, or simply doing your best to show up – please keep going! Even an imperfect presence leaves a mark.

From my heart to yours.

I’ve written many stories about my daddy. For more stories about Daddy, please visit https://maryaperez.com/2025/08/16/i-no-spic-inglish/ https://maryaperez.com/2021/06/30/my-heartbeat-part-i/ https://maryaperez.com/2025/11/11/when-memory-fades-love-remains/

Celebration of Daddy’s 90th

Reflexión de una hija sobre la paternidad

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June 6, 2026 · 6:00 AM

Counting What Counts

Gratitude isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it shows up in quiet noticing.

Some mornings, I wake up, and my mind goes straight to what’s still broken. What’s still unresolved. What still hasn’t worked itself out.

And then something shifts.

Maybe it’s the coffee. Maybe it’s the light coming through the window at just the right angle. Or maybe it’s God gently pulling my attention back to what’s still good, still standing, still real.

I’m still here. And that alone is no small thing. That’s a gift.

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” — Psalm 118:24

Not a perfect day. Not an easy one. But this day, with all its unfinished edges, still belongs to Him.

And that’s enough.

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May 8, 2026 · 4:00 AM

A Daughter’s Reflection

Mama:

She wasn’t the kind of woman people called strong.

She didn’t command a room or always make the wisest choices. She didn’t have the steady confidence I sometimes envied in other mothers.

My mama was flawed in ways that showed. Tender in places where life had been anything but gentle. And somehow, without either of us planning it, I became the strong one.

I stepped into that role way too young, long before I knew what it meant. A role never meant for a daughter, let alone a child. I became her steady ground. Her confidant. Her shield. And slowly, quietly, I started mothering my own mama.

I learned to read her eyes and knew when she was hurt or afraid. I carried feelings too heavy for a child to hold. I filled in gaps I didn’t even have words for yet. My childhood ended before it really got started.

And yet, it shaped me. It made me responsible. Watchful. Tougher than I wanted to be. But it also left me tired in ways I wouldn’t understand until years later.

Still … she was my mama. And I loved her. We all did.

Love doesn’t always grow where it’s supposed to. Sometimes it pushes through the hardest places and blooms anyway. Because God knows how to make something beautiful out of what’s been broken. Mama may not have modeled the kind of strength others admire. But she gave me something deeper without meaning to: space to find my own strength. I learned to recognize fragility up close. A kind of empathy I had to discover on my own. And grit, because someone had to hold the line. And when mine ran out, I learned to lean on God.

Loving a parent who couldn’t fully be there for you is a tender, kind of tangled ache. It isn’t resentment or blame. It’s a quiet knowing. I always knew she loved me, and she knew I loved her. And I believe she did the best she could with what she had. Even if what she had fell short. What she couldn’t give, God supplied. He filled the gaps with His grace, His presence, and the way He kept showing up for me.

Mama had six of us. She was ours—flawed, fragile, human, and deeply loved. She wasn’t perfect, and neither was I. But we were perfect for each other.

Missing her today reminds me that even fragile love can grow into something good in God’s hands. What she couldn’t give, God provided. It didn’t happen overnight. In the places that felt unfinished, God planted healing, resilience, and a deeper faith. I wouldn’t know this kind of faith without that journey.

It may not be everyone’s story. But it’s mine. And it shaped me.

If you’re missing someone complicated and imperfect today, I hope you feel seen. Love doesn’t have to be flawless to shape us.

I’m missing my mama today.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mama. I’m still here because of you—

carrying the grit you placed in me,

held by God’s grace,

with a heart full of memories.

Reflexión de Una Hija

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April 25, 2026 · 10:24 AM

When God Says No

There was a season in my life where I kept praying for the same thing.

I thought if I just kept praying, if I kept believing, God would fix it.

I believed He would change the situation.
That things would turn around.

I didn’t understand why; out of everything, why not this?

From where I stood, it made sense.
It didn’t feel wrong.
It felt good… worth fighting for.

People say in moments like that, maybe you didn’t have enough faith!

But I know what I carried.
I know how deeply I believed.

What I didn’t know then
was how much I was asking God to sustain something
that was quietly undoing me.

I couldn’t see how tightly I was holding on
to something already causing harm.

All I felt was silence.

But it wasn’t silence.

God was still working,
just not in the way I wanted or expected.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. — Isaiah 55:8

He had something better.
I couldn’t see it yet.

There are things I once cried over
that I’m now grateful didn’t happen.

That’s not easy to admit.

Because those prayers were real.
I meant every word.

But now I understand.

Some things aren’t meant to be fixed.
Some things are meant to end.
Some things are meant to change us.

Sometimes God says no
because He sees what we don’t.

We hold onto things
He’s trying to release us from.

And when the answer doesn’t come the way we hoped,
it can feel like absence, like distance,
like He isn’t there at all.

But He is.
He always is.

If you’re there right now—
still praying, still waiting, still wondering …

I understand.

I’ve been there.

And one day, with time and clarity,
you may see what once felt like silence
for what it truly was:

Not rejection.
But protection.

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February 14, 2026 · 7:10 AM

How Do I Love Thee

Dedicated to the one I love:

Love is a road. Sometimes smooth. Sometimes full of potholes. Sometimes, it’s like quicksand that wants to swallow you whole.

Looking at this photo of my husband and me, I don’t just see a moment. I see every step we’ve taken together. The long days. The late-night talks. The whispered prayers when we didn’t know what else to do. The mistakes we stumbled through, and the grace that carried us forward.

How Do I Love Thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning says it perfectly. Not the easy love. The steady, persistent love. The kind that stretches deep and holds firm when life tilts sideways.

Marriage has been our classroom. It’s taught me that love isn’t just a feeling; you don’t wait for it to show up. It’s a choice. Again. And again. It asks you to bend, to forgive, to hope, to trust. To keep showing up, even when you’re tired, even when your heart aches, even when the world feels heavy.

Faith has quietly guided us through it all. God has been the steady hand on the wheel. The compass was used when we couldn’t see the path. The shelter was where storms came. And because of Him, our love keeps growing, not perfect, not loud, but true.

Love like this doesn’t fade with time. It deepens. It matures. And by His grace, it continues to grow, day by day, breath by breath.

So today, on Valentine’s Day, I’m grateful. For him. For us. For the crooked roads and the smooth stretches. I am also thankful to God. He keeps showing us how to love deeper. He teaches us to love more widely and more deeply than we ever could on our own.

This is how I love thee. ❤️

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August 8, 2025 · 8:41 AM

Damn the Torpedoes! Full Speed Ahead!

Have you ever been excited about something and had somebody you love and admire shoot it down? Let me tell you, it stings. It bites. It deflates you, doesn’t it? Yeah, but don’t allow anyone to steal your dream!

They may have meant well, but they couldn’t see what you envisioned. They didn’t grasp your concept or idea. Then what? Your resolve wavers, and your hard work and steadfastness quake.

So what do you do? Do you throw in the towel and just give up? No, for crying out loud! Perseverance is a virtue. Where’s your stick-to-it-iveness? You have it. Haven’t you burned the midnight oil long enough to come this far? Okay, so maybe they didn’t get it. Time to regroup; dig a little deeper. Re-examine your goal and ask yourself what it is that you feel. What is the message that you’re trying to convey?

I tend to say a prayer. I ask God to continue guiding me. I want to express the message closest to my heart and share it with others. Listen, I’ve come too far to give up! And so have you! Sure, it may be a little scary, but so what? Acronym of FEAR: Face Everything and  Run, or Face Everything and Rise. I chose the latter.

I know this is not always the case. At times, it does a body good to cry and let out emotions. Yes, I, too, have meltdowns on occasion. But if you can stick to your goal, do all you know to do with unmatched determination. When oppositions come (and they usually will), you won’t easily break. Time to reflect is all. Plant where you’re rooted. Bend like a palm tree, change directions if you must. If you feel you are to do a thing, whether people get you or not, stay the course. Don’t let others defeat you with their words or the looks on their faces! What am I saying? Face your giant! (But don’t forget your slingshot.)

BE encouraged.

“Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!”

“Count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.” ~ James 1:2-4 KJV

How determined are you?

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May 7, 2024 · 10:38 PM

Dear Mama,

My heart is heavy thinking about you today. It doesn’t seem possible that it’s been a year since you’ve been gone. One of the hardest things was letting go and relinquishing you into God’s hands. He took you home on Mother’s Day around 3 pm. I believe you received the best Mother’s Day gift ever. It was difficult to see you in pain, a prisoner in your own body, lying in that bed. I never gave up on you, Mama! But I had to let you go. You had suffered enough.

In the end, friends and family came together for a celebration of life in honor of you. I’m sure the Lord gave you a glimpse of this side of heaven. You saw your beautiful flowers and heard the music choice. I know you would have been pleased and touched by what was said on your behalf. You were loved. And you are sorely missed.

I think about you often, especially during the holidays. You were always a vital part of our household. You sat at the dinner table, surrounded by family and chatter. You always enjoyed our delicious home-cooked meals. I think about you whenever I cook one of your favorites. I’m glad I can look back at some photos and see you grinning with your plate full! I loved to make you smile. Whenever I’d see a pretty blouse or jewelry, I’d buy it for you. I knew it would please you. Even bringing you a banana split or a vanilla shake did the trick.

Reflecting back, my heart is also heavy for the times I grew impatient with you. I had tried to express how sorry I was for any harsh words spoken out of frustration between us. I’m grateful that our God is merciful, and His grace covers us. We were not the perfect mother-and-daughter role model. Our words weren’t always laced with honey. But we were quick to forgive each other. After all, you were my Mama, and I remained your little girl.

You know, you went with us to Miami. I took some of your remains. I scattered them alongside Grandma & Grandpa. I also scattered them alongside my baby sister, whom we lost so long ago. You always wanted to be near them. I know this was more healing for my benefit, but I wanted you to know I hadn’t forgotten.

Oh, Mama, you have a precious great-great-granddaughter now! You would be tickled-pink and all over her! She was born three months after your passing, two days before my birthday.

Mama. You. Were. Right. You can have ten fathers, but only one mother! Mother’s Day is around the corner. I still imagine you sitting at the dinner table across from me. But your chair is empty now. You are gone, but will forever live in our hearts until we meet again.

I hope you know, you are loved beyond words. Missed beyond measure.

With all my love, always your little girl.
I also took Mama to Puerto Rico with me to scatter some of her remains…

Philippians 1:3 “I thank my God every time I remember you.”

 

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July 24, 2023 · 9:19 PM

Missing my Mama

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.” Jaime Anderson

Missing you, Mama.

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