Power to Break the Chains

By Joseph A. Ruiz

Power to Break the Chains is more than a true-life story. It is a book about a man born in Mexico who moved to the United States, endured his father’s incarceration, his brother’s electrocution, his sister’s genetic disorder, and his time in an orphanage. You will see the power of resilience, hard work, and perseverance, but above all, you will see the power of God available to all of us.

All the odds were against him. He should have been one more sad statistic. However, he overcame all obstacles through education, hard work, resilience, and God’s love and mercy.

God uses ordinary people to spread His message and help others. He gives us the power to break the chains that bind us to generational struggles, poverty, addictions, and anything else that holds us back. He wants to see you live a life full of freedom and hope. He has great plans for your life. You will laugh, cry, and be inspired after reading this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890433930

Book preview

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Power to Break the Chains

Joseph A. Ruiz

ISBN 979-8-89043-392-3 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89243-817-9 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-89043-393-0 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by Joseph A. Ruiz

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

I dedicate this book to

Judy E. Ruiz, my lifelong companion who has helped me see life through new lenses, savor every moment (even if the house is filthy), shown me what true love is, and given me two of the best gifts in my life, our children:

Anthony Michael Ruiz, my firstborn son, who has filled my life with joy and many proud moments, forgiven my flaws, and loved me unconditionally. You continue to amaze me with your kindness and love for others. Thank you, son. I will always love you for who you are!

Isabel Marie Ruiz, the second woman who stole my heart, my soccer partner, and my reason to be a better father to show you how a woman should be treated and cherished. Thank you! You will always be my little girl, no matter how old you are! I will always be there for you!

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Part 1

The Beginning

Siblings

Life in a New City: Aguascalientes

The Heart Hospital

María

First Communion

Let's Play on the Rooftop

La Primaria (Elementary School)

My Great-Aunt Socorro

Playing Games

Colonia Las Americas (Las Americas Neighborhood)

Back to the Heart Hospital

My Birthday Surprise

Back in Aguascalientes

Life in the City of Children

Monterrey

Back to Aguascalientes…One More Time

Escuela Secundaria No. 3

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial

Love Is in the Air

La Preparatoria

Having Fun in Tenth Grade

My Second Girlfriend

Things Are About to Change Again

Time to Party!

Mexico City

Saying Goodbye Is Not Easy

God's Purpose for My Life

Part 2

Life in the United States

Chicago, Illinois

Pizza, Pizza!

Learning English and Making New Friends

Truman College

California Cantina and Hillary's

After learning some English at Truman College, I decided that it was time to find a different job to make more money. I looked in a newspaper to find employment in the Help Wanted section, but I could not find something that I could do. Many of those jobs required experience and the ability to speak more English than I knew. Looking in the paper, I found out there was an Illinois Department of Labor near my house, and I decided to go job hunting to that place. I only had to take two buses to get there, and it took me only about an hour.

Seeing My Father Again

Meeting My Half-Siblings

Houston, Texas

My First Girlfriend in the United States of America

Being Hungry

Back to Chicago

Moving to Georgia

Lonely in Georgia

Green's Nightclub

Falling in Love

Going to College!

The Marriage Proposal

Getting Married

Going Back to College

First Teaching Job

Our First Home

ESOL Teacher

A Big Surprise

Becoming a Father

Daddy's Little Girl

Second Chance

Buying Our Second Home

Domestic Violence

Bye, Daddy!

More College Education

A Dream Job!

Brazil

Go East!

My Forty-Seventh Birthday

Keeping a Promise

The City of Love: Paris

Summer Vacation 2017

Going Farther West!

Valentine's Day 2018

Father's Day 2018

My Fiftieth Birthday Celebration

Coco

Coronavirus

I've Learned…—Advice for Students

I've Learned…—Advice for Parents

Afterword

More from the Author

About the Author

I dedicate this book to

Judy E. Ruiz, my lifelong companion who has helped me see life through new lenses, savor every moment (even if the house is filthy), shown me what true love is, and given me two of the best gifts in my life, our children:

Anthony Michael Ruiz, my firstborn son, who has filled my life with joy and many proud moments, forgiven my flaws, and loved me unconditionally. You continue to amaze me with your kindness and love for others. Thank you, son. I will always love you for who you are!

Isabel Marie Ruiz, the second woman who stole my heart, my soccer partner, and my reason to be a better father to show you how a woman should be treated and cherished. Thank you! You will always be my little girl, no matter how old you are! I will always be there for you!

Acknowledgments

To my story church writing group, thank you for your encouragement and ideas to continue my writing, especially Amy Hudson and Chris.

To Joan Evans, my good friend and first volunteer to read my draft to help me edit some of my mistakes. Thank you for your support!

To Anthony Michael Ruiz, thank you for being my inspiration and my second unofficial editor. You helped me combine many of my simple sentences into more complex ones—ha ha ha.

To Judy E. Ruiz, thank you for being another person to give me feedback on my writing and help me correct more errors. You are the best!

To Sara Prescott, my official editor, you are truly a blessing from God. Thank you for your professionalism, feedback, and encouragement in my writings. This book has become a reality thanks to your hard work and support. I appreciate you and hope you are available for my second book!

Thank you, Christian Faith Publishing, for accepting my book and making it a reality. I am incredibly grateful for all the people who worked hard editing it, creating the cover, and doing everything else.

Finally, but most importantly, thank you, God, for inspiring me to write my story to share your message of hope and encouragement for others.

Introduction

This book has been on my mind for a long time, and it is a project I have been putting off for many years. This book is a story of laughter, hope, tears, and healing. It is a collection of short stories of memories from my childhood, adolescence, and even adulthood. For some of my writings, I interviewed my mother to get information from before I was born.

I have had the privilege of living in two countries and experiencing events that shaped me into the person I am today. The book has two parts. Part 1 describes many of the memories of my childhood and part of my adolescence in Mexico. Part 2 covers memories from seventeen years old, when I arrived in the United States, onward to the present.

My main goal in writing this book is to heal my own heart and be a source of inspiration to people struggling out there. Life is hard, and I know my story may be different from yours, but I also know that we face many of the same challenges and have many of the same desires. We all want love and acceptance, but unfortunately, it is easy to see (and experience) heartbreak and pain. All you need to do is turn on your local news, and you will see it everywhere.

Currently, the world is going through a pandemic that has claimed many people's lives and has changed the way of life for millions. However, despite all the bad news, there is always a ray of hope in every situation. We can still find something good in the middle of the chaos by focusing on the positive side of things. For me, one good thing to come out of the pandemic is that it gave me the time to finish writing this memoir.

Perhaps that ability to find the good and ignore the bad may be the reason I have survived so many heartbreaks. As a young child, I knew somehow that even if today were rainy and stormy, tomorrow or the next day or even next week, I would see sunshine. Something inside always told me, Just keep on breathing—better times are coming.

Life is just like a roller coaster: sometimes you are up, and sometimes you are down. Sometimes it is terrifying, and sometimes it is exhilarating. No matter if you are up or down, scared or excited, things will get better or worse at some point. Just know that eventually, the crazy ride will stop someday, and God willing, you can find the peace that your heart and soul crave every day.

As I mentioned earlier, we are currently in the middle of a pandemic, but we are in a relatively happy and safe place in our lives. My children are both healthy and doing well in school. They get along very well, and I do not have to deal with most issues that some parents deal with regarding their teenagers, like drugs, alcohol, sex, etc. My wife and I might need to lose some weight, but other than that, we are both relatively healthy. We both have jobs, and we can pay our bills and take vacations yearly. We have the luxury of sometimes traveling two or three times per year. We are not wealthy by any means, but our lives are rich.

Every morning, when I wake up, I thank God for all those blessings in my life. I thank him for giving me eyes to see the sunrise in the morning and the sunset in the evening. I thank him for giving me the gift of hearing so that I can listen to birds chirping in the mornings and my children's voices and my wife whispering, I love you. I try not to take anything for granted. I am grateful even for my ability to be able to breathe. The pure feeling of air filling up my lungs—what a gift! Thank you, God! I thank him every day for putting the idea in my head to write this book.

I never imagined myself as a writer, but God knows that I have a story to tell, and he knows that some people will benefit from it. God always has a way of equipping and positioning people to do great things according to his purpose, regardless of who they are or what they do or if they think they are unqualified or incapable. It is important to remember that God sees the potential in each one of us and can use us to do his will in a way no one else can. With God's provision and guidance, the most unassuming individual can move mountains. I started the process of recounting my story many years ago, but as life got busy with college, work, and children, I struggled to write. Fortunately, through my church, I joined a wonderful writing group called My Story, and I have written more regularly.

Now my writing is not perfect because English is my second language. If you read something that sounds funny, it is my Spanish getting in the way. You may even catch a grammar mistake.

If you stop by my house and observe my family, you would think that we look like a picture-perfect family and everything seems normal. My wife and I have been married for twenty-seven years and together for thirty-four years! We have two beautiful and happy children: Anthony is twenty, and Isabel is eighteen. However, my story began a long time ago and wasn't without its hardships. We must go back at least fifty-five years to have a better picture of where everything started.

Part 1

The Beginning

My father and mother met in Mexico City during one of my mother's visits to see her sister Amada, who had an apartment there. She rented the rooms, and my father was renting one of them. My aunt Amada organized a little party where my father met my mother and my other aunt Luz. According to my mother, my father was more interested in my aunt Luz at the time. Luz was also attracted to my father, but as soon as she asked him to go out onto the dance floor, she realized my father was not a dancer, which was the end of that pursuit. My father felt defeated and consequently walked over to my mother and started talking to her. My mother told him not to worry, and she offered to teach him how to dance. They conversed and danced a little during that night, and a relationship started.

Days later, my mother went back to her hometown of Torreón in the state of Coahuila, where she worked as a secretary. My father and mother continued their courtship by writing each other letters, and after several months, my father traveled to Torreón to ask my grandmother for my mother's hand. My grandfather had already died, so my grandmother gave my father and mother her blessing.

My father had a job as a sales representative in Mexico City, but he struggled financially. He was even behind paying his room rental from my aunt Amada. When she found out that my father was marrying my mother, she warned my mother not to go through with it. Amada told my mother that my father was a womanizer at work and shared many intimate details of his encounters with female coworkers. By that time, it was too late for my mother to listen to any advice, and she moved forward to planning the wedding. Since my father did not have any money saved, my mother paid for many of the expenses. She even paid for her wedding dress.

Shortly after the Torreón wedding, they moved to Mexico City, where my father rented an apartment. According to my mother, they did not even have a bed. She quickly realized the severity of their situation and used her savings to have her furniture shipped from Torreón to Mexico City, approximately 612 miles. I am sure the move cost her a lot of money.

My mother spent most of the day alone, and my father oftentimes could not provide them with some of their most basic needs. My father would go to work and possibly eat lunch and dinner with business associates, so by the time he got home, he did not need any food. On the other hand, my mother would go hungry for days. When my father realized that he needed to do something immediately since my mother was pale and fragile, he took her to see my uncle Catarino. My uncle had a car shop and made a good living. When he saw my mother, he was very concerned and asked her what was wrong. My mother lied to him and said that she missed their mom. He invited her to eat out, and since my mother had not eaten in days, she got sick from eating so much.

My parents on their wedding day

Since my father was still unable to make enough money to have food at home, he decided to drop off my mother every morning on his way to work with my aunt Amada. My mother would help Amada clean the apartment and cook, and in exchange, she would eat there. My father would stop by the apartment on his way home to pick up my mother, and sometimes he would even have dinner there.

After a few weeks, my mother finally decided to put a stop to this madness. She told my father that she wanted to go back to Torreón to live with her mother until my father could afford to support her. Luckily, my father found a job working for another company, and they made a move to the city of Puebla, located about eighty-two miles east of Mexico City. Life in Puebla with my father's job proved to be better, and my father started making good money and provided for my mother. Even though my father was gone most of the time, my mother had everything that she needed.

After living four years in Puebla, my mother found out she was pregnant with my older brother, Gabriel, who came into this world in 1963. According to my mother, everything seemed better in her marriage. They had a beautiful and healthy child, and my father could afford everything they needed; however, my mother started hearing comments from neighbors telling her that my father was cheating on her with other women. She ignored their comments and figured that they were just jealous or had nothing else better to do.

My father was a great salesperson and received an opportunity to move up in the company, but he had to relocate to Saltillo, the capital of the Mexican state of Coahuila, approximately three hours from the southern border of the United States and one of Mexico's most industrialized areas. My father received a big bonus, and with his salary, he bought a house and a car, and things started looking good financially.

In 1968, I was born into this world in the city of Saltillo. My parents were happy because my mother had two miscarriages before my birth. They named me José Antonio, after Saints Joseph and Anthony, as a grateful gesture to God for allowing me to be born. My father was so happy to have another baby boy and celebrated all day. He got too drunk with his friends and forgot to pick us up at the hospital. This lack of support was perhaps a glimpse of what life would bring to our family.

Siblings

My older brother's name is Gabriel. He is five years older than I am, and he is someone that I have always admired. He always tells me that when I was little, he used to take care of me. I remember how proud I used to feel in elementary school to have an older brother. Nobody messed with me. We would walk to school together every day, and I always felt safe with him. Sometimes, we would also fight like any other siblings would, but after a few hours, we would always find common ground and come back to each other again.

When he turned sixteen years old, he lived with my aunt in Mexico City. He knew I liked one of the soccer teams that played there, Pumas, and when I would visit him, he would take me to the stadium to watch them play. He also gifted me some Pumas jerseys over the years. I hated that he did not live with us during my years as a teenager, a time when I especially needed an older brother. Gabriel preferred to live in Mexico City with my aunt because my mother was abusive toward him. On one occasion, my mother cracked my brother's head open when she threw a shoe at him with a high heel.

My older brother, Gabriel, holding me

Almost four years after I was born, my younger brother, Salvador, was born. He is one of the siblings I used to fight with more frequently. My mother always favored him, and that often made me upset. I have memories where Salvador and I would be arguing about something, and my mother would come into the room and say, without even finding out what was going on, You are older and need to leave him alone. She would turn to Salvador and give him money so he could go to the movies.

When I would complain about how unfair that was, my mother would ignore me. Even to this day, my mother openly calls him her favorite son. She always makes excuses for him and overprotects him. My mother's favoritism has thus created a division between Salvador and me. It is sad that I hardly ever talk to him, and we usually see each other only once per year (usually Christmas). He has come to my house several times with his wife and child, but he has never invited my family or me to his home. The only ones that have been invited to his house are my sister, Monica, and my mother. I have seen the inside of his house once, and that only happened because I showed up uninvited to his house when he first bought it. After that single time, twenty-two years ago, I have not set foot in his home.

My youngest sibling is Monica. She is five years younger than I am. Unfortunately, Monica was born with Crouzon syndrome, a genetic disorder characterized by the premature union of specific skull bones. This prevents the skull from growing normally and affects the shape of the head and face. She had to have surgery when she was only six months old and has endured over twenty surgeries, still struggling to have a normal life. Monica is a sweet and loving sister, and I am so glad she is in my life. She is like a second mother to my children and has been there every step of the way to give them love and be more than just an aunt.

As you can see, my family dynamics were not without its struggles, but there were some things (and people) that made it beautiful.

Life in a New City: Aguascalientes

Afew months after my birth, my parents moved us to a city named Aguascalientes. It is a peaceful and beautiful city, geographically located in the central part of Mexico. The city is famous for its warm springs and La Feria de San Marcos , the St. Mark's Fair. This event brings people in from all over Mexico and even from other countries as well. There are mariachi bands everywhere, roller-coaster rides, cockfights, concerts with famous singers, fantastic food, plenty of drinking, and so much more. People usually reserve hotels a year in advance.

Aguascalientes is the city where I have most of my childhood memories, and we lived there for almost seventeen years of my life. One of my first memories of my childhood was the first day I attended kindergarten. I was only five years old, and my father took me to register me at school. I remember that day so clearly because after my father introduced me to the teacher, she said, You can leave him here today if you want.

I immediately started crying because I did not want my father to leave me at the school. He let go of my hand, and I felt like I was never going to see him again. Shortly after my dad left, I met my two new friends, Sal (salt) and Pimienta (pepper). To this day, I do not know why they had those nicknames or who gave them to them, but it was so much fun playing tag on the playground with them. We would chase each other until our faces were red and dripping with sweat!

The memories of my kindergarten year are few. I remember my first day of kindergarten and playing on the slide at school. Other than those memories, the rest is a blur. However, I do remember a nightmare I had when I was that young. I dreamed that a big monster was sleeping on the playground, and my teacher was telling us to get into our classroom very quietly so as not to disturb it. As we made our way inside our class, one of my classmates tripped on something and fell. He made some noise, and the monster woke up!

The monster was breaking things around me left and right, and I was trying to hide under a desk. I remember that I woke up in a sweat right then and started crying, and I was shaking. The dream seemed so real, and I told my parents I did not want to go back to school. My mother ignored my request, but my father insisted that I stay home. My mother finally agreed.

Another memory I have about my early years of life in Aguascalientes was when my father wanted to have a few drinks at a bar. He shared with me that he would drop me off at home and then he would come back later. I started crying and told him that I wanted to go with him. Children cannot go into bars in Mexico, so he let me stay in the car while he went inside for a few drinks. I remember being very bored and ended up falling asleep in the car. Luckily, temperatures in Aguascalientes are mild. I did not care how long I had to wait for my dad; I just wanted to be with him.

Perhaps even at that young age, I would oftentimes feel that I might never see my dad again. This troubled me because I loved my dad so much! He was a loving father and had a gentle nature. I followed him everywhere. I would even wait for him outside the bathroom. I remember his big, chunky hands, and I loved the feeling of his hands holding mine. I felt protected and safe with him. At that point in my life, I remember living a normal childhood. I remember playing with my friends in kindergarten and going home to be with my parents. We lived in an apartment downtown, and life seemed sweet, safe, and uncomplicated. I had no idea that my life was about to drastically change.

The Heart Hospital

Unfortunately, life not only brings us joy but also pain. It is important to be grateful and enjoy every good day because we do not know when things may change. For me, it did not take long before my childhood turned from ordinary to traumatic.

I remember some men coming to our apartment and taking my father with them. The men wore casual clothes and did not have a police uniform, and I did not understand why they were taking my father away. My mother told me that my father was sick, and the men took him to a hospital. At that young age, I believed everything my mother told me, but regardless of why this was happening, I was brokenhearted. How long is he going to be gone? Can I go with him? Those were thoughts running through my head at the time, and I had no answers.

I remember crying for many days and hiding from my mother. She would always get angry if she saw me crying. She would always say things like, Don't be gay. Men don't cry! I did not want to make my mother angry because sometimes she would threaten me, saying, If you don't stop crying, I'm going to give you a real reason to cry!

During the first jail visit, I asked my mother why there were men with rifles by the entrance. She told me they had rifles so the patients would not escape and that my dad had a heart condition and had to stay there. I believed her. I must have been six years old at the time. Once we went through security, we walked into an open area where my father was waiting for us. As soon as I saw him, I ran to him as fast as I could! He gave me a big hug and a kiss.

A few months had passed between the time my father went to prison and the time I saw him again, but it felt like an eternity to me. I did not want to let go of my father. I wanted to keep hugging him and stop time right there. I told my father that I wanted him to come home with us, but he said that he had to stay there for a little while. I could not understand why he had to be away from us, and I started to feel the burning in the back of my eyes, but I held my tears back.

After our visit, it was time to go home. I did not want to leave my dad. This time, I could not hold my tears back and started crying inconsolably. I dropped to the floor and grabbed my dad's leg. I started screaming for him to come home with us. The guards looked over our way but did not say anything.

My mother immediately grabbed my arm and gave me the look. I knew I had to obey my mother, or things could be awful for me when I got home. My father hugged me and told me that we could come and visit him the following week. I did not want to wait another week to see my dad! I wanted him to go home with us. I was sad because I could no longer hold my daddy's hand and feel his chubby fingers. I could no longer be with him.

As we rode the bus home, I kept looking away from my mother out the window, and occasionally, I would wipe my tears quickly so she would not know I was crying. I couldn't reasonably fathom why my father couldn't come with us or the logistics involved; all I knew was he was at the heart hospital and needed to be healed and treated to be well again, whatever that meant.

María

María is one of the most popular first names in Mexico. It is a common name in Mexico because it is the name of the Virgin Mary. Even a Mexican cookie is named María; however, the María I will be writing about is unique, and her full name is María Del Refugio Figueroa Alba. She is my mother, and she is a person that has helped shape me into the person I am today. She has been a mother and a father to me, and I am forever grateful that she never gave up on me.

When I think of my mother, I have very conflicting feelings. On one side, she always made sure my siblings and I had food to eat and a roof over our heads. She worked hard to make sure we did not go hungry and had some of our basic needs met. Right after my father went to jail, she came up with the idea of renting rooms to strangers so she could have money to pay the bills. My mother only has an elementary school education and did not have a job. She only knew how to cook and clean. Once she rented the four rooms our apartment had, she was able to provide for us.

My siblings and I had to sleep on the floor in the living room and sometimes even the kitchen. It was no fun, but we did what we had to do. My mother worked hard from very early in the morning until late in the day, day after day, for many years. For this, I am grateful.

On the other hand, my mother was too strict and made me and my siblings feel like we were in a military school. We could not question anything she said, and if we did not do what she asked us to do at that precise moment, we were in deep trouble. She never hesitated to hit us with whatever she had within reach. My siblings and I were scared of her. She never took the time to hug us, kiss us, or even tell us that she loved us. I know it is unfair, but I cannot judge her because she was the only breadwinner in our household, and she did the best she could. She had to be strong, and sometimes that translated as cold, harsh, or unloving. It is impossible to give something you do not have.

I, therefore, grew up with a hole in my heart that I have tried to fill for many years. I felt unloved and unappreciated. It had taken me decades and many years of counseling to repair my broken heart. Luckily, God is the ultimate healer, and He sent His Holy Spirit to dwell