How Do You Keep a Dream Alive?

Chris and I spent several hours on Saturday clearing out the spare bedroom to make room for our baby-to-come.

It was an exciting process, but it was also a true reality check: We’re going to be parents (yikes), and our townhouse will soon be filled with baby things. We’ll have to restructure both our priorities and our living space to accommodate our little one.

For me, that means bye-bye art studio, hello nursery.

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.

Four Years and Counting

On November 28, Chris and I will have been married for four years (and together as a couple for nearly nine).

Looking back, I’m thankful that we’ve had each other’s love and support through so many of life’s ups and downs. Looking ahead, I’m praying that God will help me to resemble the Biblical descriptions of a Godly wife more and more.

For the husbands and wives out there (and for those of you praying for a future spouse), I’d like to share the Amplified translation of Ephesians 5:33. Since I’m not a Hebrew and Greek scholar, I appreciate how the AMP expands words and phrases to capture the connotations of the original text:

We're Having a Baby!

It's true! We're about to help increase the Hispanic population in our area. ¡Olé! Here are some answers to frequently asked questions we’ve received about our pregnancy:

1. When’s the due date? June 11, 2013.


2. Was it a surprise or were you trying? For about a year, Chris and I took the “whatever happens, happens” stance and left it in God’s hands.


3. Will you find out the gender? Yes. (I can sense judgment from the pro-surprise crowd as I type this.) We just want to know, okay?


4. Do you prefer a boy or a girl? We’ll be thrilled with either.


5. Do you have morning sickness? Thankfully, no! I just feel much more tired than usual.


6. Do you have names picked out? We’re flip-flopping on a few. We’ll share them once we’re a little more decided. When that time comes, please let us know if we’ve inadvertently chosen the name of an infamous ax murderer or someone you couldn’t stand in high school. 


7. Are you and Chris excited? Yes, definitely. We’re also terrified. We’re grateful that we have God’s strength to rely on, however, as well as an amazing support system of family and friends. I’m also thankful for my wonderful husband, whose quiet strength and unwavering faith keeps me sane.


8. Will you (Michelle) go back to work? Yes, I will. Although it’ll be tough for me to kiss our baby goodbye each morning and head to the office, I’m extremely thankful for my job, and I wouldn’t want to lose it. We’re going to try to work things out so that my mother can help with childcare. There’s no doubt that our baby will be in great hands… Although, he or she may learn to talk with my mom's Brooklyn accent. I can hear it now: Yo, Ma! You gonna fix me a bottle or what? I ain’t got all day! I’m starvin’ ovuh heah! (Cute, right?)


9. How do you feel about people touching your stomach? Okay, no one really asks this, but I just wanted to say that I’ve never been a touchy-feely person. Being pregnant isn’t going to change that. I won’t slap your hand away or anything, but if you can resist rubbing my belly like I’m some kind of good-luck-Buddha, that’ll be great.


10. How can we pray for you? Please pray for a healthy pregnancy, and that our child will come to know Jesus and learn to walk in His ways. Pray for Chris and I as we plan and prepare for parenthood (or at least try to). Pray also that we’ll miraculously be able to sell our house and move closer to our jobs in York by the time the baby arrives. Thanks so much!

The Time I Played Hooky

Caught in the act (skipping school at age 6)

Growing up, did you struggle to understand how to please the people who raised you? Unless your folks were as blissfully yoked as Ward and June Cleaver, I’ll assume that you can relate on some level.

My parents have vastly different personalities, and they express their approval in different ways, for different reasons. It was tricky for me as a kid to grasp what sort of behaviors could make both of them happy.

For instance, one morning when I was in first grade, my mom determined that I should stay home from school. I wasn’t sick or even pretending to be sick. She simply felt that it was best not to interrupt my creative flow. At the breakfast table, I’d started some “masterpiece” in marker, and she couldn’t bear to ask me to stop. My dad had already left for work, so she made the executive decision to keep me home without his input.