
How Love Save Me From Who I Used To Be. (English Version, #1) (eBook, ePUB)
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I never imagined I would write a book. For most of my life, I lived far from God, far from love, and even farther from myself. I carried wounds that no one could see, and wore a name I barely recognized. I was surrounded by people, but lived in silence. Yet one person never gave up on me. My grandmother. Her name was Francisca Gomes Vilas Boas, but to me, she was simply Chiquinha.This book is my way of letting her keep living. Her voice, her care, her small daily acts of love are now printed in these pages. She didn't preach. She served. And in her quiet routine of service, she taught me somet...
I never imagined I would write a book. For most of my life, I lived far from God, far from love, and even farther from myself. I carried wounds that no one could see, and wore a name I barely recognized. I was surrounded by people, but lived in silence. Yet one person never gave up on me. My grandmother. Her name was Francisca Gomes Vilas Boas, but to me, she was simply Chiquinha.
This book is my way of letting her keep living. Her voice, her care, her small daily acts of love are now printed in these pages. She didn't preach. She served. And in her quiet routine of service, she taught me something that not even years of suffering could erase. Through her, I met the Love that would one day save me from who I used to be.
I remember a moment in the garden. She was pruning one of her plants, gently removing its dead parts, and she looked at me with a peaceful expression. Then she said something that changed everything inside me. She said, "Son, a day lived without making someone's day better or easier is a day lost. We lose the day we don't show love to someone. And if God is love, then that was a day without God. If God is life, then a day we spend without making someone's day better through our love is a day without life, a day we spend dead."
I cried that day. I cried for the time I had wasted. For all the days I had lived without being alive. That moment was not just a lesson. It was a resurrection. From that day on, I made a decision. To let Love live through me. To stop resisting. To stop expecting. And to start becoming.
This book is not about religion. It is about our nature. It is about remembering that we are living seeds of something much greater, and that Love is not an emotion we feel but a being we become. I wrote this book listening to soft piano music. Each word came slowly, in the rhythm of silence and presence. I no longer live for applause. I live to offer what I have. My writing is not mine. My hands belong to Love.
If you carry sorrow, if you have lost direction, if you feel disconnected from yourself or others, I hope these words help you remember what is already inside you. I hope you feel my grandmother's embrace. I hope you remember that there is still time to love. Because living without Love is not living. And loving, even quietly, even without recognition, is the greatest thing you can ever become.
This is not a book for your mind. It is a book for the part of you that is still alive under all the weight. It is a book for the part of you that still believes in light. Let it be a small light. Let it be just enough.
This book is my way of letting her keep living. Her voice, her care, her small daily acts of love are now printed in these pages. She didn't preach. She served. And in her quiet routine of service, she taught me something that not even years of suffering could erase. Through her, I met the Love that would one day save me from who I used to be.
I remember a moment in the garden. She was pruning one of her plants, gently removing its dead parts, and she looked at me with a peaceful expression. Then she said something that changed everything inside me. She said, "Son, a day lived without making someone's day better or easier is a day lost. We lose the day we don't show love to someone. And if God is love, then that was a day without God. If God is life, then a day we spend without making someone's day better through our love is a day without life, a day we spend dead."
I cried that day. I cried for the time I had wasted. For all the days I had lived without being alive. That moment was not just a lesson. It was a resurrection. From that day on, I made a decision. To let Love live through me. To stop resisting. To stop expecting. And to start becoming.
This book is not about religion. It is about our nature. It is about remembering that we are living seeds of something much greater, and that Love is not an emotion we feel but a being we become. I wrote this book listening to soft piano music. Each word came slowly, in the rhythm of silence and presence. I no longer live for applause. I live to offer what I have. My writing is not mine. My hands belong to Love.
If you carry sorrow, if you have lost direction, if you feel disconnected from yourself or others, I hope these words help you remember what is already inside you. I hope you feel my grandmother's embrace. I hope you remember that there is still time to love. Because living without Love is not living. And loving, even quietly, even without recognition, is the greatest thing you can ever become.
This is not a book for your mind. It is a book for the part of you that is still alive under all the weight. It is a book for the part of you that still believes in light. Let it be a small light. Let it be just enough.
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