Useless Googly-Eyed Monsters

I spent a lot of recesses sitting alone on the curb in first grade. After some failed attempts to make friends, I had come to the conclusion that I was better off hanging out with the bugs on the pavement.

Halfway through my first grade school year, my parents and I moved from New York to Lancaster, PA.

I was excited about the move at first, but I soon began to miss our old neighborhood. I missed all of the family and friends who used to live so close by, and I especially missed my half-sisters.

I also discovered that my new classmates couldn’t understand my supposed “accent.” When I spoke to them, they’d look at each other, shrug, and then skip away. When I followed, they'd inform me that only kids who spoke English could play with them. I argued that I was speaking English “poyfictly,” but they didn’t buy it.

One day at recess, my teacher took my hand, pulled me up from the curb, and brought me to the guidance counselor’s office. There, I sat across a big wooden desk from a lady in a periwinkle suit and answered her questions about why I “looked so sad.”

At the end of our session, she handed me a little monster made of a fuzzy pom-pom with glued-on googly eyes and felt feet.

“Now don’t you feel better?” she asked.

I didn’t. But I nodded anyway.

I continued seeing the lady in the funny-colored suits day after day, until I had a whole troupe of googly-eyed monsters stuffed into my desk. I wanted to explain to my classroom teacher that the guidance sessions weren’t working, but I didn’t have the confidence to speak up.

So instead, I wrote a story.

His Light

It’s been a challenge to find words for blogging lately. With the terrible news from Newtown, Connecticut fresh in our minds and prayers, the only message that rises in my heart is that our God reigns. He brings hope to the hopeless and light in the darkness.

I wrote this poem when I was around 18. I hope it will be a blessing to you as we remember Christ’s birth this Christmas season.

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His Light

By Michelle Altilio-Perez 

Lone candle flickers in my grasp at night,

In a room full of darkness shines this one small light.

Wax drips softly from the wick to the base, 

Bringing to mind a certain man’s face.

This man of modest origin, who was called a Nazarene,

Bore a gift of love like the world had never seen.

He spent His youth in study of God’s Almighty Word,

And on His Holy Baptism came the Spirit like a bird.

This man, we know as Jesus,

God’s Beloved Son,

Who lived a life of humble service,

Until His work on Earth was done.

Then one dark and dismal Friday,

Our sins nailed him to a tree.

To think, the only Son of God

Would die for you and me!

There at Golgotha loomed this solemn sight.

In a world full of darkness, hung God’s own Light.

His blood dripped softly from His head to the base,

As suffering anguish lined every crease of His face.

But from the grave, our Lord was risen, and He will forever reign,

And for His use on Earth, we each have been ordained.

By the Spirit and Word, we will fight the good fight.

Ever seeking His Glory, and spreading His Light.

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JOHN 8:12 - When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

Make the World Go Away

When you’re faced with a threat, do you tend to fight... or take flight? Maybe your response varies depending on the type of peril you’re facing. You might fight to compete for a promotion at work, for example, but run for cover when your neighbor’s kid comes to the door with those disarming dimples and yet another little league fundraiser.

I’d like to say that I’m a natural-born fighter, but to be truthful, I don’t have an aggressive or competitive bone in my body. When threats come my way, my instincts lead me to roll over and play dead. You can prod me all you want, but I’m a-gonna lay there with my eyes crossed until the threat loses interest or consumes me alive.

How’s that for inspirational? Hang in there; I didn’t get to that part yet. I need to finish airing my dirty laundry first.