The Steps We Miss

 I have been on a journey, or a struggle, to reclaim my health and hopefully lose a few pounds along the way. This journey has taken me much longer than I planned and along the way there have been many set backs; and emergency C-section, Covid x2, a stress fracture in my foot, a year in physical therapy, 3 vein surgeries, and a torn Achilles tendon - to name a few. Through lots of encouragement from my amazing husband, I complete PT/recovery time and try again. A new diet, a new workout plan, a new pair of sneakers.... whatever it takes to keep moving forward. I love him for always hyping me up and helping me find balance between my health goals and real life. But sometimes....it isn't so easy. 

Can I just say that I have wanted to quit so many times? The scale doesn't move fast enough or it moves the wrong direction. I see gains in my time per lap, only to spend two weeks resting because we all got "the virus" again. I trudge to rebuild what I lost. I spend weeks hacking on the trail or in the gym doing half of what was easy before. Or I have a great workout, feel amazing and then can't move by the afternoon.  I have been discouraged by comments from other women on the track, and by gross men at the gym. I get so caught up in trying to meet my own expectations that I lose sight of the gift it is to be able to get up and move my body in the first place. 

My last visit to the track for a run, I prayed a lot while I was going. They had just sifted the sand on the track and it was squishy, slippery, and in some parts a bit muddy. Usually when I am in the zone, I love watching the sunrise over the trees in the morning on my trail. I love seeing the cute squirrels carrying nuts up into their winter store houses. I enjoy smiling and waving at the regular crowd. I am such a happy soul in nature. But today.... today my gaze had to be two feet in front of me at all times. Today my eyes had to constantly scour the ground for safe footing and there was no time for taking in the scenery. It only took two slips that almost rolled an ankle for me to understand the importance of keeping my eyes to the ground as I trudged up and down the sandy track. 

Then, the Lord brought my eyes to a set of tracks. It appeared that someone who had run this track before me had a very similar gate to me because our feet were almost the same size and our steps aligned perfectly. I quickly found myself running in another person's footsteps because if someone had already tested that patch of sand for safety and lived to make a decent footprint... surely it could hold me too. Luckily this person's shoe had an easy to spot step pattern among the hundreds of others around it, and I literally ran a mile in someone elses shoes(prints). Then, the Lord spoke to me so clearly I had to stop and take a picture to remember it. 

"YOU ARE ALL MY CREATION the same way this beautiful park is that you delight in so much" 

What!?! 

My eyes wandered to all the other sets of footprints around me. Some were smaller, some bigger. Some wove in and out from each other like a couple, or a pair of friends walking side by side. God drew my attention to the array of people those footprints had come from. I realized if we lined the owners up side by side you'd have a bingo card of height/weight ratios. You would also have a kaleidoscope of skin tones, and a yard stick of ages. However, one thing all these footprints have in common is they belong to someone who made a choice to try and be healthier today than they were yesterday. WE ARE all connected, we all showed up at the same trail, put in the steps, the work, the consistency, and yet we will all still fall in a wide scale of shapes and sizes because bodies are just different! Just like no two shoe prints were the exact same, we aren't supposed to be the same as the person next to us either. If I had a way to look back at my first few steps, the first week I hit the track they were probably made with trepidation and care. I wasn't sure how far I could run, I did a lot more walking and I even threw in some dance moves if the beat in my headphones was right. Today my time is consistent and I know the twists and turns of the trail. My steps probably look more rehearsed and confident. That comes with time and that is a definite non-scale victory. 

 I'm on the journey to be healthier and I often feel very alone, very misunderstood, very discouraged, and exhausted of restarting again and again. But today God gave me new eyes to see that the road is not so lonely... there are people who have already run the trail before you. There are people on the trail with you now... and if I can just get over my own incessant need to compare myself to others, or to my 20yr old self.... I would see that today was another step in the right direction. I am moving forward. I am getting stronger. If you're on a journey like this too... YOU are not alone. Walk alongside me. We've got this. Just keep going.  You aren't going to have the same stride as the person next to you and that's OK. Find your own and OWN it. 

Love ❤️  ya! 

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The Steps We Miss

9- 11 Never Forget

 I often remember my grandfather sharing tales of his Korean war experiences, and to the mind of a young child these visons seemed like foggy made up dreams far from the reality I knew. Almost like the bedtime stories Wendy recites for the Lost Boys in Peter Pan. However, as a parent now I see the need to tell these stories and pass them down to other generations. In this way we weave threads together and knit the line that connects us to our family past, and family of the future. Like many of you reading this, I remember exactly where I stood when the World Trade Center was hit. I remember watching the second plane hit behind Katie Couric's head on live TV. I remember the Firefighters who ran into the smoke and never came out. I remember the brave woman who fixed her skirt before she jumped to her death. I remember the weeks and months that followed. The steam engine that is the American political machine amping up boys across the nation to go defend US Soil. I knew those boys. I grew up with those boys. I dated those boys... I married that boy. The one who jumped quickly from boy to man and who found out that there are scars of war that go much deeper than any physical trauma the body might endure while deployed. I remember being the wife of a soldier when it was cool to wear a yellow ribbon on your lapel, or your purse. I remember yellow ribbon magnets on cars. Yellow ribbons were tied to tree's lining neighborhoods. I remember painting white sheets to hang on the side of the freeway to welcome soldiers home. I remember a nation that stood together and bled together. That younger, less exhausted version of me barely recognizes the world of today. Who knew in 22 years things would change so much? Who knew that social media would become the next biggest weapon to emerge from modern technology? Who knew the news would start censoring content? When did we stop remembering the things that matter? When did finding out the truth become less cool than creating an entertaining story that gauges likes and followers? Am I the only one struggling with where things are headed?  

If we want the people who lost their lives 22 years ago to truly be honored, we can not stop talking about it. We have to keep knitting the thread, we have to make the story so real for our kids today that they can't be swayed by "modern interpretations" of what happened. You saw it first hand, you lived it, you owe it to them to feed them that truth. We owe it to the country we love to keep telling stories, and keep reminding our children that we are One Nation Under God, Indivisible; with Liberty and Justice for ALL. 

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9- 11 Never Forget

Dining Table Blues

 This season of life is a weird one. I am solo parenting for the first time, full time, while my husband serves our country overseas. Getting the kids back into school, figuring out our new "normal" has had quite the learning curve. There have been days when I have felt overwhelmed, or just exhausted and I have asked the kids to give mommy a quick 30 minute break to herself. Even if it is just so I can put laundry away in silence upstairs alone. They all pitch in and keep tabs on their little brother while I gather my thoughts and it has worked out well so far. 

Then, a few days ago I came downstairs feeling pretty refreshed having re-organized my towel closet in under 20 minutes and my oldest son presented me with a coupon book he had made me after finishing his homework. It had a stack of handmade hand cut coupons with all different items on them; some were for hugs, for back rubs, for snow cones, or mom gets the remote nights. He said "I know it is really hard with Dad gone so I wanted to give you these coupons to help". I hugged him back and savored the sweetness of a kid who was doing something kind for me. 

Later when I was cleaning the table up from homework time to prep for dinner, I saw that his "coupon" construction zone had left a large section of artwork on my table and next to the blue artwork was a SHARPIE marker. Deep breaths. This is one of those moments where a pause to breath is the difference between me responding as a mother in my flesh, and responding as the mother of grace God calls me to be. 

In that moments I could yell, or be upset at the new blue marks my table dons. I could risk removing the stained finish and scrub it with a magic eraser or some rubbing alcohol. Or, I can choose to make it a precious reminder of the day while their Daddy was deployed that D decided to do someone kind for his Mama. I chose option three. One day (God willing) when I have grandchildren sitting at this table it will be a beautiful tale of their father's selflessness, and concern for his mom. One day the blue will fade into smaller pieces of a gentle memory as the table wears with time. But, unlike time, my heart will remember this sweet moment forever. 

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Dining Table Blues

My Favorite Unique Teacher Gifts

 Back to school crafting made easy. 

When it comes to bringing your children's teachers a "Nice to meet you" gift.... I have always felt like the last thing teachers need is another cup, or another apple plaque for their desks. So this year I am going to share my creative juices with you and show you two of my all time favorite teacher gifts that will make you stand out in the sea of new students. 

First- The Custom Hand Sanitizer Bottle. I have always felt like this says "I care about YOU and your classroom, but also about my child's health" Bonus points if you can find school colored ribbon or match the ribbon to their favorite sports teams colors

 

Here is one I made a few years ago. 

++ Hack: use a blowdryer to heat the label on the bottle and remove it so you have a clean surface to place your vinyl on. If there is glue residue left behind you can get rid of it using rubbing alcohol and a cotton swab. Then rinse with soap and water and let fully dry before applying your design. 

My favorite deal on hand sanitizer pumps can be found here: 

Hand Sanitizer Mega Pump

& here is a free png design you can save to make your own bottle! 

Next up is my new favorite project because it gives teachers something they need, while imparting a little bit of my personal parenting beliefs/style into the classroom as well. Spread positivity like glitter right?! But don't actually use glitter... teachers hate the clean up! 

 

These jars came in a set of 4 and can be purchased here: 

Clear Plastic Mini Candy Jar  

I used my Cricut to make the quote on the front "There are no mistakes, only lessons"

then I added the teachers names to the back of the jars. Each jar holds about 75 erasers. 

You can buy those in bulk here: 

Pink Pencil Top Erasers Bulk 

All together these gifts cost me 21.50 and I was able to make something special and unique for each of our children's new teachers. 

** Tip from a Southern Mama- never go to Open House empty handed! 

Happy Crafting Lovelies! 

. 

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My Favorite Unique Teacher Gifts

Random thoughts on John the Baptist

 Random thoughts for the morning. Last week the kids were asking us why the sun was still up at 9pm... my husband began to explain Summer Solstice to them and googled the historical significance. In doing this we learned that the church of the 4th century tried to piggyback on the pagan tradition of mid-summer by declaring the feast of John the Baptist, in celebration of his birth. This made me laugh hysterically. Not because I am opposed in any way to the church aligning celebrations with naturally occurring events, but because of ALL the people in the bible I'm fairly certain John the Baptist would hate a day that was dedicated to him. A man who's faith was so strong he often inflicted discomfort on himself intentionally to further focus his prayer and repentance. A man who ate locusts, and slept on the dirt. A man who lived with absolute humility and understood better than most that his purpose was to point people to Christ.

I am sure the church of the 4th century had the best of intentions. I am sure they felt his life of service, prayer, and humility were all traits we should aspire to. But I wonder how many times we, with good intentions, get it wrong too? Our hearts are in the right place, but we didn't really stop and "hear" the other person and so we made assumptions and we got it wrong. totally guilty, I have done that. Being vulnerable enough to let people truly know you is hard. In turn, listening and truly trying to understand someone is equally hard. If you are in the midst of a communication fumble, just know there is nothing new under the sun. Even the church gets it wrong sometimes. John the Baptist is likely holding his head in his hand this week and saying "guys, not again, it is not about me, it is about HIM". I'm so thankful that when we get it wrong God truly knows our hearts, and He see's the intention behind it, even when others don't. Grateful today, for a Solstice reminder of the gift of grace!

This past Friday, on St. John the Baptists feast day; which marks the day of his birth in the Catholic calendar, Roe v Wade was overturned in the US. While I have many friends sitting on both sides of this debate right now I can't help but sit in awe that the only fetus discussed in the bible, one who recognized the very essence of Christ from inside Mary's womb, while he too was in utero is now sharing his nativity day with the overturning of 50 years of abortion law precedent. No matter what side of the isle you sit on in this debate, there is such power in the exchange of Mary and Elizabeth's shared maternity. God is never coincidental, He is incredibly INTENTIONAL in all things. Challenge yourself to remember that sometimes things are said with hearts in the right place, but maybe not a full grasping of the facts at hand, lets remember to show each other grace too and let God be the sovereign redeemer He is!

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Random thoughts on John the Baptist

Apraxia is a tricky word!

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This post has been a long time coming. It is something I have sat down to write time and time again, but I never seem to find the right words. Which, is ironic, because that is exactly what Apraxia is. One year ago on May the 1st we received a diagnosis for Judah of Apraxia of Speech. If you have never heard of Apraxia, like me, it is a neurological disconnect between the part of the brain that remembers the muscle patterns you need to create a word... and your lips. Our sweet Judah had been in speech for years because of all the ear infections he had as a baby ( 16 infections before his first birthday and then he got tubes), or so we thought, but he really had not made any progress. He was obviously intelligent, and he could craft some of the coolest engineered "machines" to get to things he wanted; a pull system attached to a toy ride on train to yank open a kitchen cabinet, a stacked tower of toys with an umbrella to unlatch the pantry, a ruler and string attached to his carseat so he could reach the buttons on the dvd player... etc. so there was no question about the pink substance between his ears, we just had no explanation for why he wasn't speaking.

On top of that, he began to lose words. By lose, I mean, he knew the word mom and used it regularly for a while and then poof, one day it was gone and I had no name. For months he would get my attention by grabbing my face, or my leg and pointing at things he needed or wanted. This grew frustrating for both of us and his patience with us grew thin. I was nearing the end of my pregnancy with Hollis and Judah was about to age out of home therapy and enter an Early Childhood Special Ed classroom where he would get more one on one time with a teacher and a speech pathologist. Judah's first day of Pre-k actually ended up being the day I had Hollis, so I missed that. But, while I was on bedrest recovering from my c-section (God bless the c-section Mama's) Judah was struggling! I am sure in an ideal world, one would not toss their 3 year old, non-verbal child who literally had 20 words in his vocabulary IF we counted animal sounds and vroom vroom, beep, weee, as words, into a classroom full of speaking children while adding a new baby to the home dynamic. BUT, that is what we had to do, so part of me was thinking this was just regression from stress and being de-throned as the smallest human in the home..... and part of me thought there was something else going on. I gave it about a month, and then when things weren't better, I began googling. I came across an article about Childhood Apraxia of Speech and as I read it I sobbed. THIS WAS MY CHILD, I didn't want it to be, but it answered so many questions to why Judah was struggling. I showed the article to Joe and my mom, then I started to draft an email to Judah's teacher. I asked her if in his speech sessions, or in class if anyone had ever suspected Apraxia, and if this was something I should pursue with his pediatrician. His amazing teacher wrote me back almost immediately and said "Mrs. Perry, you aren't going to believe this, but, the speech pathologist was just talking to me yesterday about how she thought Judah had Apraxia and she asked me what the best way to approach breaking the news to you and his dad would be. We would love for him to see a pediatrician and get a formal diagnosis. Please keep us informed so we can best support you all and Judah during this time." Ya'll God is so good. If I had been blind sided with this info after school one day, I would have been defensive of my sweet boy, but instead God stirred my own heart and led me to the answer before the diagnosis came. We later saw his Pediatrician and a LSP and both were in agreement that Childhood Apraxia of Speech was the official diagnosis. We cried. I cried every time I talked about it for a month! I was angry my sweet boy would have YEARS of work ahead of him and even then he would always have struggles to communicate. We invested in a good children's sign language DVD series, as recommended by the SLP to help while we waited on word development and we all learned to sign as a family. Over the past year Judah has received specialized speech classes for children with his particular issues 5 days a week! He was placed in a Early Childhood class with a signing teacher so he could learn even more signing until his words came. This immediately began to relieve his frustration and when his stress level dropped life for all of us got easier. He made one friend at school, and then another, he was not "alone" anymore. I turned in my cap as VP of PWOC and took on Judah's needs as my full time job. He started receiving OT as well to work on some food issues, swallowing issues, and motor planning issues all linked to his Apraxia. Even with COVID we have continues therapy via the laptop at home. 12 crazy, intense, and hard months later I can happily say that Judah can speak! We are still a long way from full communication but, he rarely needs me to translate for him anymore and he uses both signs and words to express himself. He has gone from an anxious and disconnected little boy who used to spend hours in his "mind palace" playing alone, to a boy who loves having friends and introduces himself to everyone we see on family walks outside!

So, why am I sharing this now? Because MAY is Apraxia Awareness month and I could not let it go by without sharing our story. Because now that I am on the otherside of this year I can tell you the work was worth it 100%. Because I want you to know what Apraxia is so you can recognize it, and be compassionate to the mom who is crying with her child because she doesn't know what he wants and he(she) doesn't know how to tell her. We had many, many times when Judah was asking for something and we had no idea what it was. I would say things like "Is it a place? A food? A movie? A toy?" sometimes he would be able to help me guess other times he would just sob in frustration. I would grab his little face and say "I know those words are stuck in your head and I know you are so mad I can not understand you, but I am trying baby". Slowly they came, slowly we got better at guessing, and Judah is the best charades player I know! I am sharing because Judah has not let Apraxia hold him back, and I am so grateful to every person who has had a hand in supporting us through this journey. We have years of work ahead of us, and more challenges will come, but if this past year has shown me anything, it is that Judah is the perfect name for our son, because he is mighty like a lion, fierce, and strong in ways I don't think I possibly could have been at 3 or 4. Judah also means PRAISE and I can not praise God enough for the blessing he is to us, or the sweet upbeat disposition he has kept in spite of the struggles he has had. Apraxia is a tricky word, but God gave Judah an engineers brain and each day he gets one day closer to solving this problem!

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Apraxia is a tricky word!

Keeping your Gate

Many of you know I have been the Vice President of a women's ministry in Kansas the last several months which has taken a lot of my time and energy, but has been such a wonderful blessing from the Lord. Like many ministries nationwide, we have really had to fight tooth and nail this year to prove the validity and value of the ministry work we do here. There have been many battles, both in the physical realm with paperwork and operating procedures, and in the spiritual realm. We like to think of what has happened here as a “field clearing” because now the ground is tilled, everything has been unearthed, nothing is in the dark, and we have started to build a fresh foundation.  Foundations are the most important part of a building, and sometimes, because they are beneath what we see on the surface, they are also the parts that get overlooked. But, if the foundation begins to fail, the building collapses and is no longer useful.

So, as we have fought these battles the last few months, I have been in deep prayer about WHY this ministry that does so much and obviously bears fruit in people’s lives is having to fight so hard to prove its worth. I think the answer is really simple. As women, as  military wives, and moms, we are blessed with the job of “Gate Keeper” to our homes. In most cases women here have husbands who are deployed, or in the field and we really become the only steady foundation for our families within the walls of our house. That’s why it is vitally important that we stay plugged in to God, because it is a lot of weight on one person.  If I was your enemy and I wanted to break your faith, your sanity, your family, or your marriage…. What is the easiest way to take a building out? You take out the support beams that are holding that foundation in place! Women's ministry is that support for a lot of homes (military or not). It has been my support for over 9 years and when God moved us to a post without an active women's ministry, He called me to make my own version of it there. Why??? BECAUSE when we as women are plugged in to fellowship with Christ, and Christian women, we are stronger. Satan is smart, and we live in a time when he doesn't even need to hide himself anymore and people still refuse to acknowledge he is here. God, however,  is so much bigger than anything that get’s thrown at our gates!! Isn’t it so encouraging to have the connections and support you find when women gather together in Jesus name? We pray for each other, mentor one another, and share the burdens that this crazy military environment gives us. We watch each other’s children, bring each other meals, we even come help exterminate mice for each other (you know who you are). The Hymn "and they will know we are Christians by our love" comes to mind, when I contemplate the ways this community has stepped up in hardship this year to love on one another.  Here is a little of what the bible says about how important we are as “keepers” of our homes.

Titus 2: 3-5 says, “(Older) women likewise are to be reverent in their behavior, not malicious gossips nor enslaved to much wine, teaching what is good, so that they may encourage the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, to be sensible, pure, keepers at home, being kind to their own husbands, so that the word of God will not be dishonored.”

Proverbs 31 speaks of a virtuous wife: Her husband is known in the gates, when he sits among the elders of the land. She is the keeper of her household, and eats not the bread of idleness. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.

As you can see, from these two passages (and there are many more!), the woman’s role as Gatekeeper is valuable and important! Women are the builders, repairers, and guards of the gates of her home.

So this is where the history buff in me gets a little nerdy; did you know there were 12 gates around Jerusalem each with a different purpose and  regular crowd?

There was a Fish Gate, Sacrifice Gate, Refuse (Garbage) Gate, The Fountain Gate, Valley Gate, Old Gate….etc. God really spoke to me as I continued studying, fascinated by the many segregated entrances to Jerusalem. Nothing fishy ever passed through the sacrifice gate because it was Holy and only those things acceptable to God were allowed in. Different groups of people were even separated into which gate they could enter. As women we are constantly assessing things in our home and family lives : Which gate needs to be repaired in your home? What needs to be brought in through our gates? What needs to be thrown out of our gates? What needs to be built and sometimes…. What needs to be torn down. As we begin a new year in 2019 lots of us are also assessing resolutions, weight loss goals, financial goals, and making more evaluations about WHO we want to become. Attaining these goals is going to require some heavy lifting, some elbow grease, purging more, loving deeper, and focusing on the core belief that we want to be reflections of God. Because if God isn't at the center, you will likely be part of the mass gym drop out that happens around Valentines Day, just sayin....
If you are struggling to define your 2019, to establish goals you feel are attainable for you this year, if your foundation needs some work.... let me encourage you with these.

"O afflicted one, storm-tossed, and not comforted, Behold, I will set your stones in antimony, And your foundations I will lay in sapphires.” Isaiah 54:11

And

Matthew 7:24-27

24 “Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. 25 Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse because it is built on bedrock. 26 But anyone who hears my teaching and doesn’t obey it is foolish, like a person who builds a house on sand. 27 When the rains and floods come and the winds beat against that house, it will collapse with a mighty crash.”

As we build together this year and work to become better versions of who we were in 2018, I want you all to take stock in what God is doing. Own the choices you make this year. Use the gifts and talents God has given you to do many small, but great things. Be the guard of your gate, do not let garbage pile up where it doesn't belong, let in those things worthy of a strong foundation, things that bring you joy, and peace!

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Keeping your Gate