The walls are of conformity.

I can no longer fly free.

Every day,

They try to dye my feathers gray.

They tell me I should hide,

Ignore the light inside.

This cage is small and strong.

It tries to keep me down,

But I won’t ever fall;

My wings won’t brush the ground.

They’ll try to take my heart,

To bring me to the dark,

But I will always fight

And struggle for the light.

I’ll find the one 

To let me out.

I can’t do this on my own,

But I won’t always be alone.

I know there’s someone out there

To help a bird like me,

But until I can find them,

I’ll stay here,

Caged

But free.

My Mom, she shares her life with me;

Her joy and frustration,

Everything.

I help them when they’re down,

When they need to get the feelings out.

A distraction or an escape,

I can be there

Right away.

Maybe I don't do the most,

But I listen and I care,

And I am strong

By being there.

Another important part of friendship is honesty. Have you ever seen those videos on TikTok comparing friends to best friends? The friend will ask if something looks good on them, and the person will say it does, but when the best friend askes, they get a “No, go change.” These videos are exaggerated, and they’re supposed to highlight the fact that best friends are comfortable enough with each other to joke around, but they also show that people are more honest with their closest friends. No, you don’t always have to tell your friend they look stupid (even if they do), but you should be open with each other and honest about what you think and feel. 1 John 3:18 says, “Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”

Jesus gave us the greatest example of what it means to be a friend: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). We should always follow His example when attempting to be a good friend. 1 John 3:16 puts it clearly: “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.” The truth is, we’re never going to be able to do this perfectly. No matter how hard we try, there’s always going to be some area where we fail, some issue we’re too small to fix, some step we’re afraid to take. The trick to being a good friend isn’t doing it all perfectly, but following Christ’s example as closely as we’re able to and turning to God to heal what we can’t. Christ died on a cross to forgive the sins of those who believe in Him. By doing this, He saved us. Ultimately, God is the best friend any of us can ever have. All we can do is follow His example.

Friendship can be difficult. Being a good friend means being encouraging, honest, and following Christ’s example. Ultimately, being a good friend means trusting in God when we fail, and leading our friends to do the same. Proverbs 18:24 reads, “One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”

God is a loving Father. Fathers always want what's best for their children, and God is no exception. Our heavenly Father wants what's best for us. Another indisputable fact is that some people need to be alone to recharge. Because of the fall, people need rest, and God designed us to do that in different ways. Human nature is deeply flawed, which is why we get tired in the first place, however, God doesn't have anything against the natural way we counteract this tiredness. Jesus even says specifically that He wants us to rest in passages like Matthew 11:28-30: “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. All of you, take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for yourselves. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

You might be thinking that the above verse doesn't apply, because Jesus was speaking of coming to Him, not hiding away by ourselves. The truth is, for a Christian, the two things aren't far apart. The Holy Spirit is always with us, so even when we're alone, He's still with us. Obviously there's a difference between coming to God in prayer and just lying in bed and staring at Facebook, but God is with us through it all. Psalm 139:7-8 says, "Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!"

God is always with us, and we were actually created to serve Him. This means that we don't live our lives for other people. We live them for God. One way we serve God is by serving others; helping them out and brightening their days. Another way to serve God, though, is to take care of the body and mind that He's given us. Oftentimes this means taking some time by ourselves. Of course, the main way we praise God is directly; by talking to Him, reading His word, and spreading the gospel. Our calling does require us to have contact with other people to some extent. In fact, Christian fellowship is very important. Still, there are many aspects of serving the Lord that can be done alone and even work better that way. 

Throughout the Bible, people have talked to God and met with Him when they were otherwise alone. In the Old Testament, Abraham and Mosas were by themselves when speaking with God. After receiving His message, they'd pass it on to others. In the New Testament, Jesus Himself went off alone to pray. "Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, He got up, went out, and made His way to a deserted place. And He was praying there" (Mark 1:35).

Alone time in itself is not bad. It is a valuable tool given to us by God for rest. As important as it is to spend time with others, it's also important to take care of our bodies and minds. Ultimately, our purpose is to serve God. As people, we could stand to spend more time in God's word and less time doing anything else we may want to do alone, but even these things aren't sinful. The most important thing is to balance the way we spend our time, taking rests alone when we need it, and making room for God in our day.

The land of Great Lake Erie

And Oliver Hazard Perry.

These beaches tell of courage.

“Don’t give up the ship!” they said.

Pennsylvania is my job at the small grocery store,

And the elderly and disabled

Who come through the door

With those willing to help them out,

Who can always give more.

Pennsylvania is the church buried in the woods,

With only twenty members

Who go there every Sunday and Tuesday

To remember

How we’re saved.

Our Savior died on a tree

To take the sins of you and me.

We walk in faith,

We live in love,

Because of this great sacrifice

From heaven above.

This is the Pennsylvania I see

From the small town of Harborcreek.

These woods may be different for another,

But no matter what,

Pennsylvania is like no other.

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.

We want to be a light,

Do all that we can do.

Warm, gentle, and caring,

Yes, that’s me and you.

We’re both so active in spirit,

We just have to let it out,

Try all different things,

Be creative now.

We are the old souls

In our deepest contemplations,

And the most youthful children

In our wonder and our actions.

We are love and light,

Soft, calm comfort,

Blazing fire of compassion, 

Vibrant hues of life.

We are contradictions,

Complex mazes of the mind.

Yes, that’s us,

We’re two of a kind.

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.

      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.

     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.

that. Some trees are marked off with ribbons. The woods are protected wetlands, so nobody can come in and wreck the place. I can still help in little ways, though, like by picking up the litter that blows out of people’s garbage cans and ends up in the creek.

     There are still problems, though. The aforementioned litter is mostly ignored. My neighbors cleared out the trees in their section of the woods. A lot more trees have fallen simply because of their shallow roots.The muddy banks of the creek easily get eroded, especially with four wheelers driving over them.

     Even if they aren’t mine, the woods are my special place. They make me feel at home. In the woods, I’m alone, yet more connected to God and the people around me, whether I know those people or not. This is why preserving the woods is important to me. I’m going to do all I can, even if that isn’t much. After all, “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it,” --Psalm 24:1.

     When Kent and Nancy both caught the virus, they had to persevere. Amber had to do the same, as she was stuck back in the U.S. worrying about her sick husband. They all trusted God to bring them through, and He did just that. The event of the virus and recovery behind them, what did they do? They continued in ministry and eventually returned to Africa. They were like Paul in 2 Corinthians 4:8-9, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

     It would have been easy to let fear take over and give up hospital work altogether after the scare they had, even if the two were likely immune. Amber hadn’t gotten the sickness, after all, so she was still vulnerable. They didn’t look at it that way, though. Kent saw his close call as motivation to work even harder for others. He knew that his life was valuable and fragile, and he had to make the most of it. Ephesians 5:16 says, “Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.”

     What are you afraid of? Is this a healthy fear, or does it stop you from doing what God wants? What are you doing with your life right now? I’m inspired by the way that these three people put their fears away for God’s glory. “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”--Isaiah 41:10.

Laura is Tom's crippled older sister. Throughout the play, she is presented as a bit odd and hard to understand. This reflects how Williams felt towards his real sister. Like her glass collection, Laura is fragile. Her entire character is very nervous and anxious. She was enrolled in college but dropped out because everything stressed her out so much that she couldn't do the work. Laura seems stuck in life, but she's content with that position.

Amanda is their mother. She is very picky, opinionated, and controlling. As I mentioned before, she argues with Tom a lot. She also has a habit of holding on to the past. She is always talking about all of the "gentlemen callers" she had at Laura's age. She regrets marrying their father, who left, and takes her feelings out on Laura by constantly pestering her about finding the right man. The climax of this behavior is when she makes Tom invite one of his work friends over to meet Laura. She acts over-eager and ridiculous the entire time, right up until the man, who Laura actually liked in high school, leaves after revealing that he already has a girlfriend. Then Amanda is able to squeeze out some genuine concern for Laura.

All of the characters in this story are unique. Tom is a hard worker who just wants to be free. Laura is an usure, gentle piece of glass. Amanda is an overprotective, controlling mother. As I said in my introduction, the characters are real to the audience because they were real to the writer.

    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.

that night when her baby could have been born?

    I am a Christian and I am against abortion. Answers in Genesis, a Bible-based apologetics organization, says "Abortion is a battle between worldviews." Since I have a Christian worldview, I will use the Bible for quite a bit of my argument. If yo don't believe the Bible, please still try to be open-minded and consider what I'm saying.

    Abortion is wrong. Answers in Genesis, couldn't say this better: "Since abortion destroys a human being fearfully and wonderfully made in God's image, it is murder."

    Now think about this: we were all babies once, though we don't remember (and if we did remember I don't think abortion would be as widely accepted). Life can be difficult, but aren't you glad you at least get the chance to experience the good parts? What if you had been aborted? Don't you see that babies - even unborn babies - are humans, too! They are as alive as you and me and it is, of course, terrible to kill a living human.

    Does it ever occur to the abortionist that God put that baby in it's mother's womb for a reason? Aborted babies never get a chance, but they deserve to live simply because God created them. Again I will quote Answers in Genesis from a certain article in which the writer says, "Our right to life is ordained by God." What right do any of us have to end a life that God created? Now, remember that God is in control and when something happens He either caused it or allowed it; however, this doesn't make abortionists any less guilty of murder. No matter what the circumstance, abortion is not right.

    Someone who is for abortion might say, "What if a woman doesn't want to carry her child anymore? It is her body and her choice." True, it is her body,  but it was her choice to run the risk of getting pregnant in the first place; so now it is her responsibility to carry the child, birth him, and make sure he is cared for. The time for choice has passed for her. If she is afraid of the pain, she should rely on her friends, family, and especially God; she should not rely on murder. If someone didn't choose to get pregnant she still shouldn't abort, instead she should try to be brave and if they absolutely can't care for the child they should try to find another good family to care for him since that baby is still there for a reason, even if it wasn't the woman's choice to get pregnant. What about babies that are likely to have health problems? If someone aborts there is 100% chance the baby won't get to experience a normal life, but if the baby is born, he at least gets some chance.

    We were all once babies and all babes are made by God so nobody should kill them. Abortion is terrible. It is murder and it does not please God. Romans 12:2 says that God will transform the way we think to make us new and better people if we don't do things that we know are wrong. Now we know that abortion is wrong, but what do we do to help the problem? We spread the truth. We fight for the innocent babies who can't do it themselves. We fight the problem with the armor of God (Ephesians 6:10-18). 

impossible wish, but every chance she got, Elizabeth imagined herself as a pioneer. The reason Elizabeth hadn't told anyone was that she was afraid people would act like she acted about the Bible and judge by the outside, even if it did work out well for the Bible. 

With much more of a flat sigh, Elizabeth reached behind the dress to get a denim jacket. She pulled this on over her t-shirt, which was black with a sparkly purple music note outlined with silver studs. Purple leggings completed the look. Rosa had said this outfit was awesome (she had picked it out) but Elizabeth would much rather have worn the 1800s dress.

Elizabeth bounced down the short hall to breakfast and hardly noticed the glances her Mom and Dad kept shooting at each other. They were half-nervous and half-excited glances. Elizabeth wolfed down her toast and ignored what could have been awkward silence. After a few minutes (or an eternity depending on who you ask) Mom said, "Lizzie, could you get your sister up, we have some important news for you two." Elizabeth jumped up to wake her older sister. 

"What's so important that I have to wake up early?" Elizabeth's sister grumbled as she stumbled out in her pajamas.

"Vikki, Lizzie, your mother and I have something to tell you. You may not take it well, but this is what will be best for you two,” Dad said. Elizabeth's stomach lurched. She had read a conversation that began similar to this one in a book once, and the outcome was not good. Elizabeth could hardly swallow the toast in her mouth. Palms sweating and mind reeling, Elizabeth expected the worst. What her parents actually said made her laugh a bit. "We're moving out to Warren,” was what Dad said. 

Elizabeth was busy being relieved, but Vikki had no such occupation. “Are you kidding!?! Warren?! I won't ever be able to see my friends! Why would you do this?! You're ruining my life!" she cried before jumping up and stomping back to her room. Everything was silent after the passionate outburst, then Dad chuckled. 

"Well that woke her up," he said. 

Mom swatted at him with a towel and said, “I'd better go talk to her."

As they continued with breakfast, Elizabeth asked Dad, "We're still going to see our friends sometimes, right?"

"Of course! Warrin is right near Kinzoo, that bridge we visited last summer. It isn't too far a drive for friends to visit, it just won't be as convenient as it is now. You'll also make new friends at your new school,” he explained. Elizabeth hadn't even thought about switching schools. She didn't know why, but this idea excited her; at the innermost part of her mind, she felt that she was doing something wrong at her current school. Elizabeth still had more questions. "When are we going to move?" she inquired. "We already know what house we're going to buy, but we scheduled the closing date really far out in mid-July. We probably won't put this house up for sale until that month so we can stay here right up until that closing date," Dad told her. 

The worst part was going to be telling Rosa. Elizabeth dreaded this and tried to avoid her friend at school, but at lunch Rosa couldn't be avoided any longer. “Lizzie, is there a problem? You've stayed away from me all day long. Are you mad at me?" Rosa asked right off when Elizabeth sat down at their normal table. 

"What? Of course I'm not mad at you! Why would I be? I do have something to tell you, though,” Elizabeth lowered her eyes to stare at her lunch tray at that last phrase. 

"Well spit it out already!" Rosa demanded. 

“I'm moving. To Warren. We're leaving in about five months," Elizabeth said, preparing herself for some form of emotional outburst from her friend. Rosa looked crushed at first but soon a smile spread across her face.

“Is it April fools day and nobody told me?” she asked. 

“Nope, it's still March. I'm really leaving,” Elizabeth said. 

"Oh,” Rosa's face fell again, but her smile returned a moment later. "At least we still have five months, and half of that is Summer vacation. Let's have the best five months of our lives, and once you move I'll visit every month, Warren isn't so far away," Rosa said brightly. They started to make plans and soon Rosa's short brown curls were bouncing as she jumped up and down in excitement.

They did have the best five months ever, hanging out together almost every day, going to the lake, camping, fairs, and carnivals, and licking ice cream cones. Then it was time to go. Elizabeth didn't mind leaving the tiny house so much, it was saying goodbye to her friends that made her sad, but not as sad as she had expected to feel. Saying goodbye to Rosa was the worst part, but they agreed to email at least every week and visit each other every month.

Moving was crazy, even if they still owned their old house and didn't have to do it all at once. For a few days some of their furniture and other things were in one house while the rest was in the other, so something as simple as brushing their teeth could become a long search through lots of boxes and eventually a trip to the local store to buy new toothbrushes. The thing is that Dad hadn't wanted to rent a moving truck so he could save money, but really that would have simplified some things, and the gas money amounted to the same price a moving truck would be.

It was August by the time they were settled in and Elizabeth had time to explore. Now she had her own bedroom (helpful for when she woke up before Vikki, which was always) with a bookshelf on one wall, her bed on another along with the door, and her closet and dresser on the third wall. The walls were a sunny yellow and would soon be full of photos of friends and sketches of birds and flowers. On the fourth wall was a beautiful bay window with a view of the backyard, the woods behind it, and the mountain rising up behind the woods. It was her dream room, and Elizabeth could not wait to explore what lay beyond the window.

Elizabeth slowly walked through the woods, paying attention to every beautiful detail. Seeing something shimmer in the mid-morning sunshine, Elizabeth ran towards it, holding up her pioneer dress. She had worn it because she thought nobody would be around to see. Elizabeth must have looked quite silly splashing in the water in her old-fashioned dress, but she was having fun. She was in fact having so much fun that she didn't notice the girl approaching.

"Hello there! You look like you’re having fun!" the girl said. 

"Oh! I was just looking for my bracelet. I dropped it,” Elizabeth immediately lied. She looked down, pretending to search, and saw the hem of her costume. Oh no! This was embarrassing. Then her eyes traveled out a bit and she saw a hem much like hers. The girls stared at each other for a moment. Elizabeth stared at the other girl's light blue, flower-speckled dress, white apron, and lacey collar. The dress was slightly loose on the girl's thin frame, also it was a bit wrinkled and had a few dirt stains. The girl had wavy blonde hair in a bun at her neck, which was messy in a pretty way. What was most interesting about this girl was her bright green eyes, which were big and curious.

Meanwhile, those curious eyes were studying Elizabeth. Her dark brown hair was in two loose braids, tied with ribbons, under her bonnet and her face, though startled and confused, was friendly. The soaked skirt of the dress looked very comical.

"Nice dress,” Elizabeth said at last in a quiet voice. 

“Yeah, you too," the other girl giggled.

"I'm not really looking for a bracelet,” Elizabeth admitted. 

“I didn't think it would make sense to chase it upstream,” the observant girl said. “I’m Emily, what's your name?" she asked.

“My name is Lizzie,” Elisabeth said. 

"Is that short for Elizabeth?" Emily asked. Elisabeth nodded. "Why would you shorten it? Elizabeth is such a pretty name,” Emily said. 

“Actually, I agree with you, it’s just that it sounds old fashioned and I don't want anyone to think I'm weird,” Elizabeth said, deciding she could probably tell Emily, who had already seen the costume and wore a similar one. 

"Why do you care if they think you're weird? You are but in a good way like me. Who cares who knows it,” Emily said. 

This turned a light on in Elizabeth's brain. "Ok, I think I can be myself at school, if you help. I'm going into fifth grade this year; do you think we'll be in the same class?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, I'm not going to school here,” Emily said sadly. 

"Oh, I thought since you live around here..." Elizabeth began. 

"Actually, I don't... anymore, I was just taking one last walk through the woods. I didn't realize you moved in already, " Emily said, trying not to cry.

"Oh, I get it. You used to live in the house my family just bought,” Elizabeth said.

"Sort of..." and then Emily broke into tears. 

Once she had stopped her tears, Emily motioned for Elizabeth to follow her deeper into the woods. Presently the girls came to a clearing which was surrounded by a thick circle of pine trees. In the center of the clearing was a quaint wooden cottage. It looked like something out of Little House on the Prairie, but not quite so welcoming. Through the window Elizabeth saw that it was empty. The whole place felt lonely. Emily gripped Elizabeth's hand tightly and tears slowly rolled down her thin cheeks again. “This was your home, wasn't it,” Elizabeth whispered. Emily nodded. “Why are yον leaving?"

Taking a breath, Emily began to explain. "My Dad lost his job last year. The company went bankrupt. At first we stayed at our house while he looked for a job, but then the bank took it because we couldn't pay. Not knowing what to do, Dad turned to a friend who used to live at your house. He said he didn't have the room to shelter us, but he had a lot of money and property, so he built us this cabin. It's small, but we made it home. Everything was great until the owner of that house died and his relatives decided to sell it. Since we were on his property, we had to move, too. I was just coming for one last look before we move to my aunt’s house.”

"Wait, so my family owns this cabin now?" Elizabeth asked. Emily nodded again. "Well then you can stay!"

"What?! Shouldn't you ask your parents?" 

"They lecture my sister and I all the time about showing kindness and helping the poor. Of course they'll say yes!" 

Emily blushed but she was too excited to be embarrassed for long. "We can be best friends!" she said. 

"We'll do everything together!" said Elizabeth. 

"Just promise me one thing."

“What?”

"We'll always be ourselves together, even in public." 

"Deal,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

Abigail rolled over and took her Bible off of her bedside shelf. She dutifully read a chapter of Luke, underlining several important verses. 

____________________

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. 

____________________

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.

__________________

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.

____________________

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. 

____________________

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. 

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.

I look around at the birds that can fly. 

Where did they come from? 

How can I see them? 

God created nature

And all the lovely things;

Smiling faces, 

Precious moments,

Life,

And the eyes to see it all.

Eyes are for inspiration,

To help imagination.

Oh, how awful

For those who cannot see.

Words are a vial

To capture what we see

And share our eyes

With the blind

And many more.

   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!"

was so nervous she couldn’t even walk off the stage. She looked at the crowd again, then she saw Lucy holding up a sign that said “Help the Homeless” in bold letters. She had to sing to help the homeless. Gail took a deep breath, then the whole song came flowing out. Before she knew it Gail sang the whole song and everyone was clapping wildly. 

"Thank you!" Gail bowed and then said, "Any donations go in the bucket, if you have some money put it in there and help the homeless!"

When Gail got to school on Monday Lucy ran up to her immediately. "Did you hear the good news?!" she asked excitedly. 

“No,” Gail replied, “What?” 

They collected more than a million dollars for the homeless!" Lucy exclaimed, grabbing Gail’s hands and twirling her around. Gail smiled, now somebody else had a warm house and plenty of food to eat, and she had helped make it happen.