I am in love with art,
With the way people create their own worlds,
Tell their own stories,
Decorate a blank space,
Make something beautiful out of nothing.
I am in love with art
And with people.
Different personalities,
Values, and passions,
But each one is special.
Soft moments of tender care,
Eyes full of fire,
Smiles of pure joy.
I am in love with the world
And with art and with life.
I am in love with blue skies and sunsets,
With wind and warm hugs.
I am in love with love.
I love with such intensity
It all becomes a part of me,
Sewn into my patchwork heart,
Invading every fiber of my being
And driving out the dark.
In ten years, I’ll be who I am today, but a little bit older and a little bit better. In ten years, I’ll still be writing. In ten years, I’ll still make art. I’ll still love my family and friends, still enjoy all of the little things about life. I might be busier than I am now, but I’ll still enjoy the journey. I’ll probably be out of college, with a budding career as a journalist. Maybe I’ll live in New York City, and I’ll go out every weekend to share my art in Central Park. I might have a part time job and a small apartment while my career is still getting started. I’ll probably share the apartment with my sister–we’ll take on the city together and travel when we can. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll be amazing. In ten years, I’ll still be me.
She doesn’t stand a chance,
Won’t order on her own,
Can’t speak up to a stranger.
She can’t sing.
She can’t dance.
They tell her she should try.
“Never give up, fly high.”
She doesn’t stand a chance,
But she picks up the pen and writes,
Takes the brush and fights.
In front of the mirror,
She tries to dance.
Maybe she’ll get a chance.
She’s off to the big city.
She’s buying her own coffee.
She says, “I like your dress,”
To someone she didn’t know.
She’s dancing with the others
Outside before the show.
She’s only in the crowd
And no one even knows,
But she’s here,
And she’s alive,
And she has a chance.
What if I don't want to be an artist?
I'm not giving up,
Not on the real dream,
But this is the reality.
Why do you act like I'm giving up?
I want to make art for me
And really touch
Whoever's in reach.
Why is nobody ok with that?
Am I really giving up?
Take the pieces of my puzzle,
Throw them in the air,
But hold on
To what's still there.
I want to create.
I want to inspire,
To make someone's eyes
Rise a little higher.
I want to be me
And help you to be you.
I want to be free
And free others, too.
It's not about likes,
I just want to fly.
Hold onto that dream
And I'll be just fine.
I don’t want to be a poet,
Writing out my dreams.
I don’t want to be an artist,
Putting images to fantasy.
I don’t want to be a blogger,
Typing out relationships.
I don’t want to be a dancer,
Moving wild and free.
I don’t want to be a singer,
Shouting out a story.
I don’t want to be
Crippled by a dream.
I want to be a daughter,
Making my parents proud.
I want to be a sister,
Giving my siblings smiles.
I want to be a friend,
Giggling through the night.
I want to be an encouragement,
Picking others up.
I want to be a Christian,
Living in the light.
I want to be a human,
Living vibrantly.
Creating magic
In the world around me.
I don’t want to miss a moment,
Focusing on only one thing.
I don’t want to be alone
In my world of beauty.
I want to write.
I want to draw.
I want to blog.
I want to dance.
I want to sing.
I want to have fun.
I want to smile.
I want to talk.
I want to laugh.
I want to help.
I won’t be
Crippled by a dream.
I will be a human.
I will write, draw, blog, dance, and sing.
I will have fun, smile, talk, laugh, and help.
I will live vibrantly.
A rock hard sky glares down on a busy parking lot. People run for their cars to avoid the coming rain. The scene looks ordinary, but someone bursts into tears as soon as he’s safely hidden in his car. His thoughts are as dark as the sky. He watches the raindrops on the window without moving. He doesn’t have a home to turn to. “What’s the point, anyway?” he’s tempted to ask.
This is a made up scene, but many people who feel hopeless might ask the same question. The good news is, God has an answer. He created people with the purpose of glorifying Him. For Christians, our mission is more specific. We’re here to glorify God, and to recruit others to do the same.
This isn’t an end-all answer. It can be hard to glorify God when everything seems to be a mess. One way to practically walk through a valuable life is to pay attention to the little victories. Oftentimes it helps our mental state when we focus on the easy moments and pieces of beauty that God gives to us.
In God’s view, everyone has value. Every moment until the very end is special, so the elderly can still honor God and take advantage of His joys. The same goes for the disabled. More struggles simply means more chances for victory. Every life is important, even those that haven't started yet. They can see it all one day, too. With the right view of God, anyone and everyone can come together in peace and hope.
Maybe the sun begins to break the clouds and the depressed person smiles despite himself. The rain stops, and he exits his car to the smell of clean air. He might notice a soaking wet paper stuck to the pavement. He gently picks it up to see a Bible verse. Suddenly his world is full of hope.
Do you have something that you really want to accomplish in the future? Everyone has some sort of goal, even if it isn’t big or impressive. I have a page-long list of goals that doesn’t even come close to summarizing the dreams in my head, but I’ll focus on just one: I want to share my artwork with people. Not just drawings and paintings, I want to share poems and stories and anything else I can make. I want to create a bright future for myself, going on adventures and connecting with all sorts of people through the things that I love.
I’ve had to ask myself before why I want this. I think God gave me the passions that I have for a reason, so I want to use them to spread hope and to honor Him. 1 Peter 4:10 says, “Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.” Besides, I have a craving for adventure, and this sounds like the best way to satisfy it. Leaving an impact on people is the most thrilling thing that I can do.
Everyone has to start somewhere. Right now I’m posting pictures and blogs on a personal website, sharing them with a few
people on Instagram and my parents’ friends on Facebook. I’m learning all I can and trying out new things. I’m taking in the people and the world around me and enjoying it all with wide eyes.
I’m already on the first step to reaching my goal. Another part of this step is entering contests to gain exposure. From here, I’ll try to get featured in some blogs and magazines, and sell some of my work. I’ll work on writing my book, and when it's ready to publish, I’ll work on that. Once I’m a little older and have more money, freedom, and experience, I’ll go for bigger things; art galleries and exhibits, book signings, and who knows what else. The sky’s the limit!
When I think about it, my goal isn’t very specific. That doesn’t matter; I don’t need to know everything when I’m only fifteen years old.The important thing is that I have a goal, even if it’s outlandish. I’m going to try my best to achieve whatever form this dream will take.
What if artists
Never aged?
What if dreamers
Stayed the same?
Adults at birth,
Working
For our goals,
Running
For our dreams.
Always young at heart
Never growing old.
Ever rising passion,
Simple wonder at the world.
Age
Is just a number
Maybe
We can choose it.
Old and wise,
Young and vibrant,
What if
We could have it all?
What if
There were no limits?
I watched the crystals of frost form around my fingers on the cold window. My cousins oohed and aahed at the elaborate ice sculptures we were passing. “Maria! Look at that one!” Betty screamed in my ear, leaning out of her seat and across my lap to press her face against the window. Her chocolate curls were flying everywhere. I jerked my hand away. She was looking with sparkly blue eyes at a small bear lit by colored lights somehow frozen into the glass figure. It was cute, but really didn’t stand out in the maze of animals. I wondered what had caught her attention about this one. Sometimes I felt like all I did was wonder. I didn’t ask. I never asked. I just giggled as she pouted at the cloud from her breath blocking her view.
I turned back to the open sketchbook in my lap once Betty returned to her seat. I made a rough sketch of the bear by the unsteady light, including details that I wanted to remember. I needed my full concentration to actually draw anything good, but I liked to do crude little doodles like this and fix them in my room later. My sketchbook was full of that kind of thing. I sometimes thought of it as the letter of my heart. I doodled everything I wondered about.
Charlie, who sat on Betty’s other side, was talking on and on about the anatomy of a polar bear, brushing back his messy brown hair. He was tall and lean with frosty blue eyes. Despite the fact that he was a total nerd, all of the girls at school insisted that he was hot. I didn’t see it.
I glanced back to see that Georgia, Charlie’s twin, was patiently translating what her brother said into non-sciency terms for little Fred, who wanted to be a scientist. He was staring at her with round blue eyes, hanging on every word with his mouth partly open. Georgia gestured with her delicate hands, silver bracelets sliding around as she talked. She was an angel, and there was something odd about that. I’d known her my whole life, but I still didn’t know her. I wondered what was beneath the surface.
“Hey!” I shouted as Nicolas slammed into the back of my seat and jostled my sketchbook. “Watch it!”
He didn’t respond, instead trying to get Fred into a headlock. In return, Fred punched him. I groaned and rolled my eyes as the boys continued to wrestle in the back seat. Grandma and Grandpa kept up a jolly conversation in the front.
So now you’ve met the cousin clan. It was always like this when we all came to stay with our grandparents in New York for Christmas: chaos. Betty was my sister; she and I lived with our parents in Florida the rest of the year. The twins were also from Florida. Fred lived in Kentucky and Nicolas in Ohio. We all came to our grandparents' house every year for a month in winter. Hence the chaos.
"Stop it! I want to hear about the polar bears!" Fred yelped.
"Nerd!" Nicolas taunted.
I turned my attention back to the window, tuning the boys out as we passed an elaborate nativity scene. I focused on Mary's glass face. It was carved into a delicate smile, her eyes closed. I wondered how it would really feel to be in the scene.
"You know, kids," Grandma said, right on cue, "Mary must have been the bravest woman ever to live. Imagine being the Savior's mother!" Grandma said the same thing every year when we passed the new nativity. It always made me think. How had Mary felt?
Two days later I was sitting in the corner of a church sanctuary. Kids were running laps and bouncing balls in the room that unfolded before me. Their loud voices echoed under the high ceiling. Adults were chatting and laughing merrily. I could see soda spilled on the floor near the pizza table; cookie crumbs litteredhe gray carpet. My sketchbook was open in my lap. I scribbled a few lines down as I noticed two kids chasing each other with a spoon. The kids brushed through the front of the church and I watched as May fell from the nativity in front of the pulpit. I hesitated, then got up to fix the display. The ceramic figure was cold in my hand. I turned her over, contemplating.
"You're Anne's granddaughter, right?" a voice asked from behind me. There stood a woman about my mom's age with dimpled cheeks.
My face turned red as I nodded. "Someone knocked this over," I explained.
"Gotcha," she smiled. "Anything you found particularly special about it?"
"What?" my brain always seems to work a little slowly in conversations with unfamiliar people.
"You looked thoughtful; I was wondering why," she shrugged.
"Just making sure it isn't broken," I said quickly, my face still hot.
At that moment a little boy started screaming about someone taking his juice box.
"Hang on," the woman told me, rushing away to help the boy, who I assumed was her son.
Once she left, I had time to think. Nobody had ever asked me what I was thinking about. Ever. My mind was a veil, my thoughts and questions hidden from the outside world. Nobody ever tried to remove the veil. Not me. Not anyone else. Someone noticing and outright asking what I was thinking about was new territory. Maybe it was a special opportunity.
"Anyway," I said the moment the woman returned, " I was just wondering how Mary must've felt." I was proud of myself for getting the sentence out before I lost courage.
The woman chuckled, "She must've leaned on God's grace a lot."
Now I was picturing some god dancing ballet. "Grace?" I ventured.
"Giving us what we don't deserve. God probably gave Mary peace despite the crazy situation."
"Isn't that called mercy?"
"Mercy is not giving us what we do deserve. How much of the story do you know?"
I shrugged, "Isn't it a classic story?"
"Do you know why baby Jesus is our Savior?"
"Wasn't it because he… actually, no, I don't know," I realized, blushing.
"He was born through a sinful woman into a sinful world. Everyone deserved to die. The world is still like that today. When He grew up, Jesus took the punishment for our sons by dying on a cross. You might've heard about that around Easter before. If you trust in Jesus, you can have mercy and he'll give you grace when you need it."
I stared at the woman, skeptical. "Can the world really be that bad?"
"Think of all the world's problems: war, terrorism, murder. It can absolutely be that bad. Think about your life. Have you ever done something wrong?"–I nodded—"Then you've sinned."
"Is it always a big deal, though?" I was feeling uncomfortable.
"Not compared to some things, but it is compared to the spotless world that God intended," the woman said.
I shrugged, "I guess."
"Give it some thought," she advised. Just then the kid started telling again and the woman disappeared in the chaotic room. I set Mary down and wandered back to my corner.
The world doesn't change in a day. Mine didn't. I nearly forgot about the encounter, but reminders kept popping up. I began to wonder at the lyrics of Joy to the World and other classic songs. I stumbled across a devotional for 25¢ while searching for gifts at the thrift store. I found a gospel tract in the mall bathroom.
One night, a few days before Christmas, I couldn't sleep. I reread the tract, flipped through the devotional, and played gospel songs in my earbuds on repeat. I was only getting more curious, so eventually I tiptoed past Betty and Georgia, down the hall, and into the living room. The TV sat on top of a cabinet full of movies and old tapes. Buried behind the Harry Potter series was something else, though: an old, dusty Bible that had belonged to my great-grandmother. I cracked open the ancient spine and flipped to a random book. John seemed good. I sat against the wall, partially concealed by the big tree with the popcorn and mismatched ornaments. I read by the pinkish glow of the lights. And I read. And I read some more. I made the choice that night.
Fast forward a year. We're here looking at the ice sculptures again. Fred is on his own trying to understand Charlie's words as Georgia is oddly silent. I wonder what's going on in her head.
"You're quiet," I say, twisting in my seat.
She shrugs.
"Want to get out of this chaotic car? It's fine if not."
"Sure, that sounds good."
I yell up to Grandpa, and he lets us out, agreeing to pick us up at the nativity in a while.
"What are you thinkin about?" I venture as we make our way down a lane of frozen candy canes.
"Nothing really, just… I don't know. I feel sort of invisible," she giggled.
"I get that. I used to feel like all I ever did was wonder about people, but I couldn't interact with them."
Georgia snorts.
"Not just real people, either. I always wondered how Mary felt. I mean, she was real, but like… not contemporary."
"I bet she was scared. At least if she was halfway human. All of that pressure to be some saint… yikes."
"Maybe. I still wonder about a lot of things, but I think I know how Mary felt. I think she felt full, knowing that God saw her and saved her and that she had a purpose, you know? I think she felt heard."
By now we're back at the nativity.
"You lost me," Georgia laughs.
I glance thoughtfully at Mary's statue. "How much of the story do you know?" I ask.
My dream is to be an artist. I have it all planned out from entering contests now to art college to selling my work in my own store that preferably influences the entire world. That's a pretty big dream, I know, but I know I'm unique so I might just be able to make it happen. I've always had this idea about being an artist in my mind, but I think I started to take it seriously around sixth grade. There was this mini art contest at my homeschool co-op that I entered a painting into. Nothing came of that, but it put the idea in my head. I thought about it for a few months and began to make my plan. I remember one night I was supposed to be sleeping but I couldn't stop thinking about my future art career. I got this random burst of excitement as the idea became real in my mind. I was cuddling with a stuffed cupcake dog and all I could do at that moment was squeeze it as tightly as possible. I hugged my dream and my heart right into that dog. It sort of became my good luck stuffed animal after that. If I'm not mistaken, that same dog, Pugsy, was there when I opened my email two years later and read the words, "Congratulations, your work has been accepted for publication!" At that moment the dream was really real. My heart skipped a beat.
It was the very beginning.
All was perfect,
Like a beautiful Van Gough,
Until the fall.
God gave His people a choice,
Good or evil,
Purity or defilement.
They chose to sin.
Like black splotches
Blanketing the canvas,
We are all tainted.
Anyone who has ever done wrong
Is an evil sinner.
No matter how small the deed,
However many good things we’ve done,
It doesn't matter.
You are an evil sinner.
I am an evil sinner.
Every person
Ever to live,
All sinners
Except one.
Long ago, a Child was born
In a manger,
A humble birth for a king,
For the King,
The Son of God,
The Artist coming to restore His painting.
It was the second beginning.
That Child,
Christ,
Would become our Savior.
Justice says that
Sinners deserve to die.
Mercy says that
We're no longer sinners.
Christ took our sin,
Forgave it,
And died to pay for it.
All we have to do
Is trust
In Him
To be saved.
I will be saved.
You can be saved.
Death came from sin,
So Christ defeated both.
His grave is empty.
Now He is in Heaven,
The unspoiled picture.
I will meet Him there one day.
Will you?
Pages and pages
Besides what’s in my head
So many phrases
Plus all my words unsaid
I don’t know what to do
How do I organize my mind
Are my words even true
When the perfect one is so hard to find
I see the vague shapes of thoughts
Like silhouettes on the horizon
I move towards them but I’m lost
I can hardly turn my mind on
Just faded mists of dreams
Beyond the reach of language
Maybe I’ll just express with color beams
I’d better try before they turn beige
Did you know that the first kites were invented in China? It's hard to tell exactly who did it, but two big names are Mozi and Lu Ban. At first kites were used for military purposes to deliver messages and measure distances for attack strategies. They were also used by sailors sometimes in a superstitious routine to see if it was a good time for a voyage. By the prosperous Tang dynasty, however, kites were for entertainment, sentimental, and religious use instead of their original dark intent. Today kites are still a form of Chinese culture and art. There is even an annual festival dedicated to kites in the Chinese city of Weifang.
Dear Future Me,
How does it feel to be an adult? It feels weird enough to be 13! Today Mom was working on school for next year and I saw a paper that said 'Abigail Rater -- Grade 8' at the top. It just looked so big! Not as crazy as 'Kennedy Rater -- Grade 10', though. How about 'Mason Rater -- Grade 4' or 'Maddy Rater -- Grade 2'. I can't believe how old we're getting! Your well past all of those by now, though. Did you go to college like I plan to? Were you able to major in art and writing? Did you make a career for yourself? Enough questions. I've been trying hard to get my work out there and I'm sure the answer to all three questions will be yes! If not, well, I guess it's God's plan. No matter what, I hope you have, do, and will use the talents that God gave you for His glory. If not, it's never too late to start. 2020 has been a bit of a rough year for us, but there is still so much to be thankful for. God gives us new reasons to smile every day, after all.
Sincerely,
Your Past Self,
Abby Rater
In all of my 13 years of life, I've always lived in the same state in the same county. Though I used to live in what Mom now calls "the ghetto" my family has really always been country folks and that's my only cultural influence.
Although I only live in one physical world, I have another sort of fantasy world inside my head that is in some ways separated. When I was little I would get very concentrated on something that nobody else saw and Dad would say that I was in Abbyland. Nobody talks about Abbyland much anymore, but I still have a whole world up there. The only difference is that now whatever happens in that world gets spilled upon pages in either words or pictures, whichever suits the mood best.
My worlds are both equally real, and they help each other stand and make me who I am. I want to show this by bringing you into each of my worlds.
It's almost lunchtime and I sit at the dining room table waiting for Mom's help with my science book. She is busy
explaining some complicated algebra in front of the computer. She sits at the wooden extension on the end of our table. Her hair, graying at the tips but dark everywhere else, is pulled into a loose bun and her hoodie has a cross on it. Kennedy wears a look of annoyance and confusion with her eyebrows scrunched together on her tan face. Her greenish-hazel eyes keep darting towards the clock on the oven.
Meanwhile, Mason has already finished his schoolwork. "Hey Dad!" he begins.
"What?" Dad asks with a smile as he looks up from his phone. He had been working on a sermon with his brow wrinkled in two lines of concentration.
"It was funny, on Veggie Tales..." Mason begins explaining every detail of one little joke that he heard on TV.
"Well that's fun!" Dad says brightly, though I can tell he doesn't really care. With Mason's big mouth and glasses, I'm surprised there's any room left on his face for the fat Rater nose.
Maddy and Benjamin are in the living room playing with Frozen dolls and Mario stuffed animals. They also finished school. "Benjamin, make Bowser say, 'What are you doing?'" Maddy commands.
"What aw you dooen?" Benjamin repeats in a monster voice. The game continues on like that. Maddy brushes her messy hair out of her face and has a hard time getting her purple glasses untangled. Benjamin has a quizzical look on his face, I don't know why. His thin legs are just the right length to reach the couch, which is their play surface.
Gracie makes the scene even more chaotic. She is sitting on the table holding a board book and pretending to read when she sees our dog, Annie, trot by. Gracie's curls frame a face that is taken over by a giant smile. "Kit-ty, kit-ty, kit-ty!" she says in a high voice. Then she crawls over to look and ends up falling right off of the table! Everyone drops what they were doing and runs to see if she's OK. She is, and now she has seven family members comforting her and calming her cries.
This is my first world; my home with my big, caring family.
Now enter my second world. Wade through the questions I ask myself and the answers that are the foundations of my stories. Find the strings of ideas just waiting to fly off the tip of a pencil and feelings anticipating expression. Look around at the peaceful thoughts, hopes, and dreams weaving together into a beautifully calm fantasy.
I am sitting amidst whatever scene I wish to draw. Right now it is a bright green dome of leaves full of light and color. A notebook is in my lap and I am scribbling vigorously, pausing often to think and stare into the distance. My eyes light up with an idea and I send it around the test tracks in my mind before squealing in excitement. Then I turn back to my paper.
This is my second world, full of ideas and fantasies. It doesn't take as much explaining as my family, or maybe I just don't have the right words to tell any more, but it is just as crazy in a peaceful sort of way. Maybe nobody understands that besides me, but I love it nonetheless.
My two worlds are very different -- that you can clearly see -- but I need both of them and they both need each other. My family often serves as inspiration for what goes on in my mind and notebook, and my younger siblings are always glad to listen to my writing and share their opinion. My family is always supportive in my attempts to make my work into something big, and I am so thankful for that. On the other hand, when I have a problem with someone, art and writing help me to calm down and/or know how to deal with the situation. These are just a few examples. My worlds aren't like oil and water. They mix, but at the same time they stay two different things, so they are more like salt and water.
One thing, or being, really, permeates both my worlds and holds them together. That being is God. My parents have always taught us the Truth, and everything special about our family focuses on honoring God. Meanwhile, I try to bring glory to Him with all that I do in my fantasy world.
I get out the dollar store pallet of watercolor paint and the magenta cup full of all kinds of brushes and covered in all colors of paint splotches. I inhale deeply and find the comforting smell of paint like an old, musty friend. I take a piece of paper and place it on the wide area of newspaper put there to protect the already messy tabletop. Time to paint. I've always loved to draw and paint for as long as I can remember, and my parents say I'm really good at art for a third grader, but my paintings usually only consist of dozens of random blobs. I hope that that's about to change. I pick up an odd type of secret weapon, a thin-tipped brush, not considering the amazing power that it most certainly holds. I paint the outline of a dolphin in black. I color it in with blue and continue to paint all the other sea life I've studied in my co-op science class. I look at my handiwork with astonishment. A smile spreads across my face. This actually looks like something. I can hardly wait to show my mom, my science teacher, my grandma, everyone. This is only the beginning.
Today I am grateful for my younger sister. It wasn't a great day and I got really grumpy and generally not fun to be around but she still wanted to play outside with me.
Today I am grateful for America, my country. I finished my history book for school today and I learned about Americans commemorating how our country started by celebrating the fourth of July. Throughout history, when any number of awful things were going on, people continued to celebrate our country. It really made me think about what America is. Why celebrate it? America was built on freedom. God created this beautiful land and placed on it people who He allowed to build a country where we can be free to say and believe whatever we believe is right. Now with the quarantine it may feel like our freedom is restricted, but we are still free to believe. I am thankful that my country gives me this right.
Today I am grateful for my Mom. We did our morning yoga as usual but this time my younger brother, Mason, did it with us. I was mad because it's sort of a special thing just for Mom and I, but she was calm and fair and kept me in good enough humor to enjoy yoga even if I did wish it was just the two of us. Later I did get some one on one time with Mom, though it was only at the grocery store. At the checkout she bought me a new flavor of chapstick (just don't tell any of my siblings). We also rented the movie of Little Women and something for the younger kids to watch. Mom read the book when she was around my age and she loved it and was excited for me to read it last year. I loved it just as much. So with our mutual love of the story we cuddled up to watch the movie after dinner. I am thankful for the wonderful time that I got to spend with my Mom today.
Today I am grateful for spring. It's been pretty cold out the last few days, but today wasn't bad. I did some art outside and watched three birds as they loudly squabbled and flapped their wings in a nearby tree. Later I took a walk at the edge of the woods and admired the many flowers preparing to open up any day now. I was cold when I got back from a bike ride with my brother, but it was so good to be outside! I am so thankful spring is here; I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't.
Today I am grateful for God. I could go on for hours with the reasons but I haven't got the time for that so I'll leave it at this: What could I be more thankful for than the One who made everything that is good?
Students, consider your attitude about school for a moment. How would you feel if you heard that you get school off for a week? Most people would probably be excited about this. What if your school got cancelled for a month? What about the rest of the year? What if you weren’t sure when you could go back to school? What if it turned out to be never? These last two questions are the reality of many children living in poorer countries. Maybe you think that this sounds wonderful, but it’s not. School is important. It may not feel like it matters in the grand scheme of life, but it does.
Though most of the news is currently about the coronavirus outbreak, this does not dismiss other topics from importance. The lack of education in poorer areas, especially for girls, may not seem important to us now, but surely it affects those experiencing it. They are very real and so is their problem. While they are experiencing these troubles, we who can learn are likely complaining about how hard our school is or how long it takes. I believe students, myself included, should be more thankful for the ability to learn.
Research shown on youthtruthsurvey.org says that although a majority of students feel engaged in school, only about half actually enjoy going. I am homeschooled, but this still applies. This applies whether you go to public school, private school, homeschool, or cyberschool. There are differences, advantages, and disadvantages to each, but it is all school. All learning. All taken for granted. Here is an example:
I am doing my math at the kitchen table. I read the description of points and lines in my book for the second time, realizing I don't actually understand this explanation of the concept I've had a chapter on every year since second grade.
"Mom, can you please help me?" I ask.
"What do you need help with?"
"This doesn't make sense."
So Mom explains it to me carefully. I still don't understand. She explains again. And again. And again. I won't allow my mind to understand, by now I'm frustrated.
"That is so dumb!" I exclaim. I'm about to cry.
A week or two later I pick up my reading book, I am Malala. In horror I read the true story of a girl who's country is in conflict over many things, including education for girls. Schools were being bombed. Malala got shot in the head at age 15 for standing up for education. In one part Malala wrote, "When someone takes away your pens you realize how quite important education is." And here I am reading in my own bedroom near the window, perfectly safe. I shamefully remember my tantrum over math.
While we look at our books, frustrated that we don't understand it, another child somewhere else is looking at last year's books or a friend's books or the picture of books in their mind's eye, wishing they could be learning right now.
According to humanium.org, about 72 million children can't go to school and about 759 million adults are illiterate worldwide. These numbers are simply crazy, and much of the credit for that goes to poverty (though sometimes, as in Malala’s story, it has more to do with legal conflicts). Poverty affects education in a number of ways. This is proven by globalcitizen.org, which lists a few. The funny thing is, while poverty is preventing learning, education really has the power to end poverty. Concernusa.org says that if all children in countries experiencing poverty could simply read, about 171 million people could get out of poverty; if every adult had an education, poverty rates could be cut in half. Keep in mind that while this is going on we students are probably complaining about our own school. We have this weapon against poverty, why don't we use it?
It's all too easy to find excuses.
"My teachers are boring."
"This subject is too hard."
"School is tiring and I can't think when I'm tired."
According to spielgaben.com, there are legitimate reasons for students to seem to lose interest in school and not care about learning. It is the job of those running the school to minimize these things, however, that does not mean we students are allowed to stop trying. The main issue is attitude. With a good attitude and some effort, we can enjoy school, or at least be thankful for it, despite it's annoying problems.
Education is important in my life. Maybe I’m a bit of a nerd, but I love feeling smart. I am always excited when I find myself reminded of something I’ve learned while doing an ordinary activity. It is an amazing feeling to realize how naturally you can connect your textbook to the outside world. I also want to be an artist and a writer when I grow up and both of these things require education. Anyone can see how education is required to be a writer, but it may be harder to consider it a crucial part in becoming an artist. Art is a creative process, but facts and knowledge are necessary to share it and to make better works. Education is being used all the time in obvious or hidden ways to help people achieve their dreams. Because of this and since we have access to it, it would be simply foolish not to try as hard as we can to get as much as we can out of our education.
Many students who can learn don't want to, and 72 million children who can't learn wish they could. Students may have very good reasons not to like school, but they still need to try hard to learn. We students need to be thankful for the blessing of education. The least we can do is try to have a good attitude about our own learning. If we, as students, take our education seriously, we could help others with their education, too. Learning is very important and before those of us who can learn can help those who can't, we must understand just how much this matters and have a good attitude about it. Education can change the world.
Why do we celebrate Easter? Obviously to honor some random bunny who hides colorful eggs full of chocolate. Makes sense, right? Ok, so that story is pretty random. If you aren’t a fan of creepy bunnies (how does he hide said eggs? Weird.), you might say that the holiday is about spring, growth, and new life. This is a lot closer to the truth, anyway. For Christians, Easter is a day to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection after dying on a cross for our sins. I want to share how I depicted that important message in my painting.
What you probably noticed first in my picture was the cloud near the center with a red outline of a heart on it. Most hearts we see are red. Why? Well, I don’t know if this is a real reason, but it clicked for me: blood is also red, and blood can represent sacrifice. Hearts of course mean love. 1 Corinthians 13:4-5 says this about love: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” The best kind of love is sacrifice. Jesus loved us so much, despite our sins, that He gave His blood for us. He sacrificed
himself so that He could die for our sin in our place. That’s real love. John 15:13 puts it clearly, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” I used the first cloud to represent that.
The second cloud, near the corner, is wrapped in some sort of ribbon. This is supposed to be like the wrappings Jesus was buried in. They are wrapped around the cloud because, well, they aren’t on Him anymore! Jesus was more powerful than the grave. He rose again! We read in John 28:6, “He is not here; he has risen!” In verse 12 of that same chapter, “Peter, however, got up and ran to the tomb. Bending over, he saw the strips of linen lying by themselves, and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened.”
Finally, there is the sun in the other bottom corner. You may be thinking I just really like to paint sunsets. Well, I do, but that’s not all. It can be a sunrise, too. Thinking of it that way, it represents a new hope for a fresh start. Because of what Jesus did for us, we can have new life. To quote 1 Peter 1:3, the verse Dad used in his sermon this morning, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” Maybe that’s why we celebrate the resurrection in spring. The sun also represents the Son, as in Jesus, the Son of God. He rose from the dead to give us light in this dark world. It represents the Son’s ascension to heaven, as well. Finally, if you look at it like a sunset, it could represent the end of the world. It will be beautiful for those who are saved with heaven waiting on the other side. Psalm 16:11 says this: “In your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” We only have that because of what Christ did for us, and because of His power.
So that’s what Easter is about, not sugar rush or oversized bunnies. It’s about new beginnings because of Jesus’ sacrificial love for us and His power over the grave. It’s about the joy we have in heaven someday, and about Jesus waiting for us there now. The words that really stuck with me from Dad’s sermon this morning are “living hope.” That’s what we celebrate today. As Easter comes to a close, let’s try to remember that every day throughout the year. I’ll leave you with this verse: “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.”—Isaiah 53:5
From the moment she woke up, Abigail knew that this was not going to be an ordinary day. Then again, was any day ever ordinary? She allowed herself a few more minutes to soak in the warmth of her patterned pink comforter before opening one eye, then the other. She smelled the aroma of lavender that spilled out of the diffuser. She liked how the scent matched the purple curtains. The window shade was closed above the air conditioner and the colorful fairy lights surrounding it were not plugged in, but sunlight still peaked through to light up the room and dance on the off-white walls. The dresser along the right wall held Abigail’s art supplies and a large stack of books on top of it. On that same wall hung all of Abigail’s drawings and in that corner her dolls played. The other side of the room had a tall dresser with a backpack, a camera, and a guitar belonging to Abigail’s sister, who was waking up in the top bunk. Her dance mirror, framed in hundreds of photos, colored the wall and a giant stuffed sloth sat next to it.
Abigail rolled over and took her Bible off of her bedside shelf. She dutifully read a chapter of Luke, underlining several important verses.
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She mentally went through her list of things to do to get ready for the day as she picked out a floral dress and pink capris to wear. Several whiny voices drifted through the door crack from the living room as she dressed.
Oh, did you think this was the story of a perfect girl with a perfect life? Not quite. This is the story of Abby Rater and her crazy but wonderful family. More importantly, this is the story of God’s way of working in their lives.
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As Abby smoothed a brush through her tangled bedhead, she looked over at her sister’s perfect hair. It was dark at the top where the dye had grown out, but everywhere else were waves of a lighter, almost golden, brown. Abby thought bangs looked awful on most people, but Kennedy could make them work. In fact, she could make anything work; everything about her looked perfect.She could be a model if she wanted to. Now look at the contrast between this and Abby’s frizzy mess, which she was now pulling into two tight braids.
Kennedy was bending to kiss Patches, who was napping in her usual spot on Abby’s bed. Kennedy loved cats, sometimes too much, according to all of the scratches on her hands. Macey was a timid little angel. She gave a friendly ‘Brrrroew!’ of greeting whenever she entered a room and she let anyone in the family do anything they wanted to her without so much as swattimg at them. She got scared of new people, though and hid well when visitors came.
Lets just say that Patches had more spunk. Abby liked that Patches had personality, and it likely added to her own bond with the cat. Since the day Patches was found, Abby had been her favorite. Patches made Abby’s bed her own, always there for comfort or cuddle. In return, Abby was often petting and cuddling to show her love. She was, however, careful not to smother like a certain older sister.
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Kennedy threw on a hoodie and saved her extensive outfit styling for after breakfast as she turned on her phone, Abby’s virtual enemy. Kennedy was always staring at that screen texting friends, playing Roblox, watching YouTube, and who knew what else. The one and only good thing about Kennedy’s phone was music. Kennedy seemed to be full of music. She played guitar at church and danced to K-pop songs at home. Abby didn’t understand K-pop whatsoever (what’s the point of music if you can’t understand the words?) and she didn’t like the tunes much, either, but she knew that Kennedy liked it a lot so ultimately (though she would never say so out loud) Abby was glad that her sister had that. After all, her older sister was also her best friend and, when she put the phone down, Kennedy made a great one. The girls did practically everything together and there was nobody Abby liked better to laugh with than Kennedy.
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In the living room ten minutes later, Abby found her four younger siblings. Mason, Maddy, and Benjamin were all watching a YouTube video of someone playing video games on the TV. They may have gotten out of bed earlier than she had, but they hadn’t gotten dressed yet and Abby knew that they hadn’t moved from the couch much.
Judging by the mess of toys, pillows, books, and baby wipes in the room, Gracie had been busy. She sat on the sill of the big triple window holding a bag of chips as big as herself. A smile showed in her dimpled cheeks and scrunched up nose. The morning sunlight came through the window and created a golden halo to surround Gracie’s curls.
“Are we still walking Tucker later?” Abby asked Mason as she shoved pillows and cracker wrappers aside to set a basket of clean laundry down on the long sectional couch.
“Sure,” Mason said happily. He held out his fist for their special handshake.
Tucker was the newest addition to the family, a seven month old hound from the ANNA Shelter. He wasn’t trained at all yet and had a tendency to annoy the rest of the family, but he really was sweet and loving despite it all. Abby and Mason tried to walk him every day to get him out of the house and teach him to behave.
Annie then trotted into the room with her ears perked up. Her tongue hung out of her mouth in what looked like a smile. “Yes, we’ll bring you, too, Annie,” Abby said, bending down to pet their well behaved dog.
“Aww, you’re such a good girl,” Mason cooed, giving Annie one of his signature hugs.
“Kitty kitty kitty!” Gracie squealed as she ran to the dog on her chubby legs.
“Benjamin, want to play Mario stuffed animals in our room?” Maddy was asking.
“Shuw,” Benjamin consented and they scurried off, Maddy humming a tune as she made it up. Maddy was like Kennedy with her love of music, but in several ways she was much more like Abby. She was just as fun and quirky, she said some surprisingly thoughtful things, and somehow they just seemed to come from the same dreamland.
Like Kennedy and Abby, Maddy and Benjamin did nearly everything together and were constantly laughing hysterically about nothing. They were “best buds”. Maddy was the sassy boss and Benjamin the quiet follower. He was very quiet when he wasn’t crying. He did cry somewhat often, but that was the price of his sweet, sensitive heart. It was well worth it.
Abby was folding (and wishing she could fit into) Maddy’s unicorn shirt when Mom and Dad came in from the back deck. Dad was discussing a trucking job that he had applied for. This job had better hours than he was currently working at FedEx so he could provide for the family and have time to see them, which was what he cared about most in life. Mom was listening to him -- she was great at listening -- while putting bread in the toaster, holding Tucker on his leash, and helping Abby with the laundry. It may have been summer vacation and a Saturday no less, but the parents were still working hard and making it look easy.
“I’m sorry, do you need help with anything?” Dad asked Mom as she brought a stack of plates to the table.
“I think I’ve got it,” Mom said with a certain brightness in her tone that matched her smile.
“Let me help you, woman!” Dad exclaimed loudly in his pretend old man voice. The kids all giggled and Dad continued. “Back in my day you accepted some darned help!” The children continued to laugh as they gathered around the scuffed, cluttered, happy kitchen table and Dad continued to tease in his funny voice.
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After breakfast Abby grabbed one of her many notebooks and dashed outside. She climbed up her favorite tree and fondly looked around her. The mossy yard was full of trees, a trampoline, a kitty pool, and several other toys. The paint was still peeling on the deck and the house was far from a mansion but it was cozy and it was home. What Abby loved most about her home city, Harborcreek, was that no matter which way she looked, if she strained her eyes far enough, they would eventually fall on woods. She didn’t have to strain her eyes much to the left, for there was her own little wood that stepped into the yard.
Have you ever felt lonely, discouraged, or angry? Of course everyone has experienced these or other troublesome feelings, but that does not change how terrible they feel for each individual person. It would be great if all of these problems could just disappear and we could always be happy, but that just isn’t how life works. Some people preach that the Bible can get rid of all of your problems and grant your every wish, but this is not true. This world is ruled by sin and it will be until Christ returns. So, if it depends on our circumstances, we can’t always be happy, but leave it to God and we can have something better than earthly happiness: joy. Let’s look at how we can obtain this joy.
Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice! Let everyone see that you are considerate in all you do. Remember, the Lord is coming soon. Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His
peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.
Philippians 4:4-8
This is one of my favorite Bible verses because it unlocks the answer to the important question: how do we find uncircumstantial joy? If we fill our minds with God and His word, it will fill our lives with His hope, peace, and joy. The way I see it in my mind and the way I chose to draw it, God’s word will wrap around us and comfort us as we are filled by Him so that we can shine through our difficulties.
How do we fill our minds and our lives with God and His word? By getting to know Him, of course! If we read the Bible and pray regularly with open hearts, then we will begin to know God. The more we learn about Him and interact with Him, the more we know him, look like Him, and learn to rely on Him. As we become more like God, we begin to produce the fruits of His Spirit, which fill our lives even more with Him.
But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!
Galatians 5:22-23
Sounds simple enough, right? All you have to do is trust and set your mind on the right things. It’s really that simple! Next time you’re feeling bad, be prepared. Fill your mind with God right now so that you always know where to look for comfort.
A few days ago I was painting with watercolors. I got very upset when some brown paint dripped onto the best part, which was a pink flower patch in the bottom right corner. After I calmed down, though, I was able to salvage the picture by blending the brown in with more pink and green paint. It actually turned out better than it looked before. See the picture above.
How does this relate to anything at all? Well, God can make good things come out of mistakes or bad things in life, just like even more beauty came out of the mistake in my painting. Let's see how.
First, we need to understand that God has the power to make good come out of bad things. He has this power because He can control all things. Verse 35 of Daniel 4 says, "All the people of the earth are nothing compared to
Him[God]. He does as He pleases among the angels of heaven and the people of the earth. No one can stop Him or say to Him, 'What do You mean by doing these things?'" This is basically saying that God is more powerful than anyone or anything else, He does whatever He wants (and since He is perfect and all-knowing, this is a very good thing), and nobody can stop or question Him. Isaiah 46:10 says something similar: "Only I[God] can tell you the future before it even happens. Everything I plan will come to pass, for I do whatever I wish."
Now we know that God can make good out of bad, but we need to know if He does. While God does sometimes bring just judgement on people, Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that God causes everything to work out for those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them." This means that Christians don't have to worry! If we truly love God and want whatever He wants for us, everything will eventually come together to help us in some way, be it obvious or unexpected.
Though it may not seem like it, God always has a purpose that will ultimately benefit believers. I am not saying that if we believe in God we'll get all the possessions we want and our lives will immediately be perfect, not at all! All I'm saying is that God is on our side and He knows what's best for us in the long run and how to make it happen, even if it makes no sense to us at the time.
Things are pretty crazy right now with the coronavirus and the panic and precaution it has caused. Schools and businesses are closing temporarily. People are buying all the food, hand sanitizer, toilet paper they can get. Some may feel like the world is going crazy, or even falling apart. This is all scary, but the good news is that we don't have to be afraid!
Isaiah 40:8 says, "The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of our God will stand forever." This is why we don't have to be afraid, we can always trust the Bible, which never fails even when everything else in life does. "OK," you may say, "The Bible will always last, but what does it matter to me? How will that stop my fear?" Well, it isn't so much the book itself, but what God has written in it that should give us hope.
"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth," Genesis 1:1. When God created this world for us, it was perfect. There was no sin, sickness, fear, or death. God didn't want the humans He created, Adam and Eve, to be like robots, so He gave them a choice between good and evil. Sadly, with one sin, they chose evil. This is how sin, sickness, fear, and death entered the
world. Now everyone in the world is a sinner.
The penalty for sin is death but the good news is that God sent His Son, Jesus Christ (who was fully God and fully man, and therefore sinless) to die on a cross as the sacrifice for all of our sins. Now that Jesus died to forgive us of our sin, we can go to heaven if we trust in Him. We also need to ask God to forgive us of our sins and He will.
Heaven is a perfect place with no sin where God and everyone who has left this world trusting in Him lives. It is a paradise where God is praised all day long with joy. No matter how hard things get here, those of us who believe in God and all He has done can have the hope of heaven to chase our fear away. We know this world's problems aren't permanent and one day we will be in perfect paradise praising Him.
This is why I drew the earth flying apart with the cross in the middle, standing in one piece. If you look, you will see that there are lines coming from the cross to keep the world from completely falling apart. Jesus died on the cross so one day we can go to heaven, this hope can be what keeps our world from completely flying apart.
The soft hum of voices
Sends me into daydreams.
Every note of the encouraging message
Makes my heart sing along.
A friend's sparkling smile
Prompts me to burst.
Her funny texts
Are like candy in my mouth.
A book is a portal to another world
That I joyously bring back to my own.
Each character is so real,
It's like they're all my friends.
Swirls of color make someone's dreams
And I can't tear my eyes from the canvas.
The sheer beauty
Takes my breath away.
Life is amazing
And incredibly inspiring.
I feel buoyant and beautiful
Taking it all in.
I itch to be in action;
My fingers vibrate for the nearest pencil.
Ideas are being stirred.
I can feel it fizzing up inside of me.
The yearning is too much
When I see the world outside.
Every frosted branch,
All of the clear water,
It calls me.
I pour out all of my feelings.
With the brushes on my desk.
Intense inspiration flows from my fingertips
And a smile is always on my lips.
I dream and I create.
Maybe someday
I’ll inspire someone else
And the cycle will keep on rolling
And coloring the world.
Art--
My brush floats across the canvas,
Dashing to and fro.
I let all my feeling out right there,
Living colors
Of joy.
I don't need
To be shy.
There's no reason
To be afraid.
I can let myself go,
Be crazy as I want,
Dramatic as ever.
No one will judge.
Mistakes are ok,
In fact, bound to happen.
It's all part of the process.
Art makes me feel free,
Transparent as my watercolors,
Graceful as the dove
Emerging from my brush.
I can be
Whatever I want
To be!
I can capture all the beauty;
Everything magical
In the world around me,
All that I see
With my eyes.
Eyes--
They let me see the world outside.
I take it all in:
Deep blue skies,
Blooming flowers,
Falling leaves,
And soft ripples in the water.
My eyes let me see
All the people around me
With their smiling faces,
Tender looks of love,
And every emotion.
I see their eyes,
And then their personality.
Are they big and bright,
Taking it all in
With enthusiasm,
Or half closed,
Just waiting for slumber?
What about the color?
Is it clear and sure
Or dull and muddled?
Is there a mix of color--
A range as wide,
As deep,
As confusing and utterly wonderful
As the personality
Of the eye's wearer?
Please, I invite you,
Dive into the shining pool.
Of mystery.
Now please don't take for granted
This privilege that we have.
I urge you, take advantage
Of your windows to the world.
Share with those
In a world of darkness.
I want to let them see
Through my eyes
With my words.
Words--
Feeling out on paper,
Running across the screen,
Or just hanging in the air.
Feel how they twinkle and gleam!
Like the laughter of the creek,
They express our greatest joy.
Like the moaning of the wind,
They portray our every longing.
Each feeling comes alive
And is set free
By the simply clicking syllables.
Stories come to light,
Offering comfort
Or confrontation
As we step into
A whole new world
And bring back a treasure
To beautify our own.
Oh, when the right words click!
I suppose the angels sing
At the flood of satisfaction,
The completed perfection
Of one heartfelt sonet.
When I write,
It makes me feel brave
To say what is true,
To really be me!
Oh, the relife
When a smile breaks out
At the sound of my words!
Above it all,
I love the fall
Of the sounds
In every place.
It brings such a beauty
You just can’t erase.
Have you ever had the feeling
That your heart was made of air,
Buoyant as the clouds,
Beautiful and fair?
When all the good seems multiplied,
Your happiness is doubled.
When all bad feelings are left behind,
Were you ever really troubled?
I'm not sure about you, but I do.
I start to feel this way,
So peaceful and so pleased,
On a bright, vivid fall day.
When the orange trees reach and reach.
They try to touch the deep blue sky,
Which reflects the other's brightness
As the hours and days go by.
I'm reminded of my friends,
Our giggles as we play.
We laugh and laugh and laugh,
Or talk the time away!
I think that some of us are the sky,
And others make the trees.
We're made to glow brighter together
As we smile on with ease.
Wind rustles in the leaves,
I notice as each one gleams
That the sun is setting from behind.
The world is gold, it seems.
I see all of this beauty
As the leaves remember summer sun.
They put on quite a show
To keep up all the fun!
I remember this day last year
And all of the good ol’ times.
I'm excited for it all again
When there's nothing new to put in rhymes.
I always keep my eyes open.
There's always something new.
I love, love, love the past,
But there's more fun in the present, too!
Everything is so exciting!
I can't bear to wait for tomorrow,
Though I never want today to end!
There's always a thing to learn, a new way to grow.
True, school can be quite dull.
Over math I feel my eyelids drop,
But I love to know I'm learning,
And sometimes I don't want to stop!
I like it best to have art before my eye
Or perhaps a book in my hand.
I get the strangest feeling,
You might not understand.
I feel the ideas stir inside of me.
I itch to grab the nearest pencil
And pour all the inspiration out.
My hands and mind just can’t sit still!
Monday.
I eagerly await the end of this week,
The start of May.
Maybe I'll take a stroll in the creek,
But will it be to celebrate
Or to ease my disappointment?
To know this I cannot wait.
Did they like the entry I sent?
Tuesday.
The ground is a magical carpet
Of a flowery array.
Only a few have not bloomed yet;
Most have opened up their glorious petals
To show what makes them so lovely
And when the right time calls
I will bloom, too. Just wait and see.
Wednesday.
I have smiled all night in bed
And also all day.
My art has been accepted!
I have new confidence
That my writing could be, too.
My excitement is immense;
How to contain it, I have no clue.
Thursday.
I bickered with my little sister
In a childish way.
She offended me about a picture.
I came at her with my paintbrush.
I failed to keep my anger in
But next time, into rage I will not rush.
When we fail, second chances let us win.
Friday.
I did not do it this time
But it's okay.
I'll keep on using rhythm and rhyme
To honor God, the One who made me
And gave me the talent and passion.
I will always be loved by Him, you see.
He is here, no matter what may happen.
“That's everything you'll need, and the instructions are right here. Tell me if you need anything, Ok," Dad said. Amy was looking for a hobby and Dad was a builder. Maybe building could be Amy's hobby. He wanted Amy to try building by herself to see if she was really good at it.
Amy picked up the instruction packet. It said "How to Build a Swing: an easy step-by-step project for kids," on the front in big letters.
Amy nailed together all the parts and tied the ropes after Dad drilled the holes. Amy hung the swing while Dad held the ladder. Now it was time to test it out.
Amy felt the wind in her hair and the way it gently resisted her legs as she kicked back for more speed. She felt amazing. The swing seemed to be working perfectly, or maybe not.
Suddenly Amy was flying farther, much farther, than she should have been. She was still sitting on the seat of the swing. . . but the ropes had come untied at the highest point! Amy braced herself for the impact. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation of the fall, and then something changed.
Amy was still swinging. She was as high as when she was about to fall, but she came gently back down, and up again, and down. As the swing slowed to a stop, Amy looked at her surroundings. The swing looked very different; the seat, now carved and twisted, hung from the tree on two long, deep green vines. Leaves and bright pink flowers of all sizes grew on them. Nearby Amy saw a huge deer gracefully bend down to take a drink in the lake, which sparkled in the pale sunshine. All was peaceful. Amy wasn't the least bit afraid of the large animal. The ground was all mossy hills and valleys. Trees were growing all around and big butterflies were everywhere.
''Excuse me, Mr. Deer, could you please come over here and tell me what in the world is going on?'' Amy asked. The child knew that animals do not normally talk, but she asked the question and was not at all surprised when the deer answered.
''I cannot come over, I am sorry to say. Deer are not allowed in the fairy kingdom, we may accidentally hurt someone. It is a shame, though, I've always wanted to try some of the fairies' cake,'' he said.
''Fairies? Am I a fairy now? Is that why you look so big?'' Amy wondered.
''Certainly, you came here to find a hobby and even though you don't have wings, there are many fairies who will help you as if you are one,'' the deer explained. Amy was amazed.
So the fairies helped Amy find a hobby. At first it didn't go well.
''I'm sorry I spilled your paint, Andy, I'll help you clean it up,'' Amy apologized to the art fairy.
Andy laughed and her smile sparkled just as much as her magical wings. "At least you got just the purple shade I needed, but it shouldn't be in the sky! Don't worry, I can fix it," she said. They were painting in a meadow full of flowers in all shades of purple.
''Maybe cleaning is your hobby, you could balance out your clumsiness,'' Cassie, the craft fairy, joked after Amy made another mess. The shelves lining the craft room were covered in pink slime and even Cassie's bouncy curls had glue in them.
''Wow, am I bad at singing, but at least I don't have to clean anything up this time, unless I shattered one of those big windows,'' Amy laughed to Mira, the music fairy.
"You didn't. Don't worry, I know you'll find your hobby soon," Mira said. Her big blue eyes told the truth.
Finally, Amy tried baking with a fairy named Brittany. ''OK, let's make fairy cake,'' Brittany said, ''It's sweeter than you are!'' When Brittany smiled, dimples appeared on her chocolate-colored cheeks. The tidy kitchen had everything imaginable to use for baking organized nicely. Three flower spills and a dozen broken eggs later, it wasn't looking nearly as neat.
''I'm sorry I made such a mess, I was distracted by an idea: why don't just a few fairies fly treats over to the animals. I'm sure the animals won't accidentally hurt them if there's only a few,'' Amy explained.
''What a great idea!'' Brittany said. ''Let's get started right away!''
Soon the whole kingdom was abuzz with plans for the animals. A party was planned so that all the fairies could get together to cook food big enough.
''I see you've found your hobby, little one,'' said Opal, an elderly fairy whose wrinkled face was framed in long snow white hair.
''What do you mean?''
"Well, you enjoy helping animals, and you're wonderful at it,'' Opal explained, ''It's not just animals either, look how excited everyone is because of you. A real talent you have.'' Suddenly Amy understood.
''Oh thank you! You all helped me find my hobby, and it even helps others!'' she cried.
''In Mark 9:35, Jesus says, 'Whoever wants to be first must take last place and be the servant of everyone else.' That means that if you are humble and make it your ability, or hobby, to serve others, you will become great,'' Opal said.
Amy beamed as she surveyed the scene around her. "It works fast," she said, "This is already pretty great!"
