Someone has asked me to write a bit about me. About how I am inspired to write my books. About how I prepare to speak in public, to give motivational talks, or even give Sunday school classes on lessons on a specific topic. It took me a little time to decide to do it and I decided to start talking about the first book I ever wrote. I hope I have not exceeded in the length of what you wanted because this publication is a bit long, but I would like you to read it in full and enjoy it.
During my youth, I was living in a place called Pueblo Nuevo Suchitepéquez, a small town inhabited mostly by indigenous people, who were almost all Mayan descendants. I was a very outgoing child, totally different from who I am now. Despite my young age I already knew how to make bread; because I liked to spend long hours in the bakery that was behind the house where I use to live. I used to love it, making bread and especially taking care of it as it was baking, since its smell was fascinating to me; to such a degree that I could spend long hours there without feeling tired. I also enjoyed the long walks I took through the streets of the town, every time my sister, my guardian, who at the time I lived with, left to attend the school that was in another town near where we lived.
Have you ever imagined, how it would feel to live in a silent world? I think that more than one of us has experienced the desire of wanting to silence people, so that they would stop talking or stop listening to the noise around them, as we have also forgotten the value that family has, the health of our body, the time we share with our loved ones. People who have lost one of their senses have learned to sharpen the others they possess and feel more with the heart, which allows them to perceive the world from a more human perspective, valuing everything they have around them. If each human being learned to recognize that everything around us has a divine origin and we learned to give thanks every day for the privilege of living and loving everything we do and have, we could hear all the sounds around us with joy and gratitude.
When I read the story of Fausto (A very original story of a man who tirelessly seeks happiness); I found it SURPRISING that he found that happiness he so longed for, in the service he performed in favor of other people. It was then that I remembered when I was a child I was terrified of growing up and losing the wonderful piece of the world that surrounded me. The company of my parents, the jokes of my brothers, the games with my friends. All the words of tenderness and the loving way with which they spoke to me. 
Making decisions about the education of children is like entering a labyrinth. One where you will always find yourself trapped in the middle of a crossroads of advice and experiences that others want to give you so that you do not make the same mistakes they committed when educating their children. Advice and experiences in which many times we forget everything that we ourselves lived by when we were teenagers and lacked responsibilities.
I’m going to ask the stars for a sign! That will lead me to the vast terrain
forever.
But when our senses are coordinated again with our mind and heart; then we see the reality that torments us, and our first reaction is to feel fear of the emptiness that traps our body, the loneliness that surrounds us, the helplessness that suddenly embraces us, and like children afraid of the future, we simply CRY! Fragile and alone we think we only have two options: letting ourselves be killed by pain or demonstrating our character and overcoming tragedy; struggling to keep living. Because what makes the difference in our life is not the fact that we have suffered, what makes the difference in our life is the value we give to everything we have learned together with our capacity to help each other and have happiness. To be free, sovereign and independent is akin to flying high like the Quetzal over the tragedies without ceasing to be human.
Many of my friends complain that Father’s Day goes almost unnoticed by their families. That in many occasions they are the ones who jokingly remind them. Some of them say that it is as if it did not have relevance because according to history the celebration of Mother’s Day is celebrated first, then the day of the child and at last the Father’s Day. Some of them believe that, due to the exemplified stereotype of the father figure as a rude, rough, strong man who is not afraid of fate, it is that he does not receive much attention, because it does not agree with his image.
EMOTIONS AND PAPER STRIPS 