For Dad...

      'Heard a famous author speaking on his 'Love Languages' yesterday...rung true.  We, my dad and I, speak different languages...me, with the emotional, relational, let-me-hear-your-heart language, and he, with the let-me-show-you-my-love language.  I inherited his thick wavy hair, his intense passion for God's Word, and his love for meeting people of all shapes, sizes, and stories...but our souls have different shapes.

He built the house we 8 children grew up in...designed it, broke his back laying the foundation, hoisting the frame, laying the shingles, and once it was built, made sure we all stayed quite warm in those cold Ohio winters.


He plowed the land and planted the seeds...both in my heart and in the fields...fruit came...joyful young girl that I was, picking the fruit trees and eating the beans and corn, my soul growing as well.

Grapevines from the Perry farm

Mom & Dad (and trees from the farm)

And now as God has pulled back the weeds and the flower of me has blossomed...Dad still serves...home-made gifts for the wedding, offers to help in the move to Florida.  And perhaps I will learn that language of service too...giving without asking, loving with a quiet strength.

The Perry family

We are all still learning...