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.

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.

I’ve never been great at memorizing Scripture, but there’s one verse I always used to think of when I was upset, or felt like the world was falling apart: Matthew 24:35, which reads, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” In context, this verse doesn’t mean quite what I thought it meant. Here Jesus had just finished speaking of the end times, and the judgment that will fall on unbelievers. This means that one day sin will be judged, and the world will be made new. The problems we see in the world today won’t hurt us any more.

While the Matthew passage is speaking about end times, it’s also true that every word spoken by the Lord or through the Holy Spirit will last forever. In fact, Isaiah 40:3 says, “The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever.” Later in that chapter (verse 31), we read the encouraging words that, “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Psalm 91:4 says, “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” These sentiments are repeated in multiple passages, including Isaiah 43:2 (“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze”) and Joshua 1:9 (“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”) These words were spoken to the nation of Israel, but they still hold true for believers today. In Matthew 28:20b, Jesus says, “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Here, “you” is referring to the disciples, and all believers who are sent out to evangelize the nations. Are worldly problems really significant when we have the eternal God of the universe on our side? Of course, we may still hurt, but we can take comfort knowing that we’re never alone, that God is always right there beside us.

1 Peter 1:3 tells of the greatest truth in God's word: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” I’ve quoted this verse frequently, as it’s probably one of my three favorite verses. Humanity was dead in sin and hopelessness, but God sent His own Son, Christ, to die so that we didn’t have to. (Romans 5:8: “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”) The world may be in shambles now, but it won’t be forever. No matter how hard things get, we always have this living hope that one day we’ll be in heaven, praising God forever. 

A third promise made in God’s word is that He always has a plan. It may be hard or even impossible to understand now, but one day it will become clear to us. In the meantime, we should trust that God knows what He’s doing. Jeremiah 29:11 reads, “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” In context, He was speaking to the nation of Israel, exiled in Babylon. If He was with them, working to a much larger plan than they could ever imagine, why wouldn’t he do the same for us today? Paul gives a reason for his own suffering in 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, saying, “Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong..”

Suffering is never enjoyable. Hard things happen in life. It’s difficult to comfort people who we know are going through these types of problems, and even harder for those actually in the situation to endure. Through it all, though, God’s word remains the same, as does His character. No matter what happens, God is always with us. He’s already sent Christ to save us from our sins. One day He’ll make all things new. In the meantime, He still has a plan for our daily lives. His strength is made perfect in weakness.

A foreign drama

To those in prosperity. 

For politicians, a game

With life as a chess piece.

King me.

The road to honor,

Or rout to defeat.

What is war?

Bloody hands

Clinging to hope.

Desperate hearts.

One place to go.

Words nobody ever heard.

The people’s needs have been ignored.

There’s always a way,

But nobody said there wouldn’t be pain.

What is war?

War is victory and defeat,

Homeless children in the street.

Hand that she won’t hold again,

Prints he can’t leave in the sand. 

Ruined lives and broken times.

War is where the heroes die.

What is war?

Courage and honor,

A cause to believe in.

To a broken problem,

A broken solution.

Those fighting the fight.

The dark before the light.

This is war.

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 am purring cats, pajama pants

And music in my headphones

I am safe here 

And I am not alone

God is here beside me

Hold my hand, Lord

You are my future hope

Singing me to sleep

Before I reach

Your planned tomorrow

But there’s still a me-sized dent in my bed,

Taunting me as my resolves reach their end. 

I hate myself.

I don’t want to be anyone else,

But I wish I could escape me,

Stop being this lazy.

I used to say anything was possible,

But there’s a lot I can’t do, 

Always thought I was motivated.

I guess that’s not true.

I’m a loser and I didn’t even know it.

I look in the mirror and hate that me,

But is she really who You see?

You see Your creation,

Tired and broken

But healed by salvation,

Worthy by Your hand,

Though on her own she can’t stand,

A girl doing what she can do,

A girl ready to live for You.

She fails again every day,

But You pick her up,

Just the same.

Tired, weary, and put to the test,

It’s only in You

That she can find rest.

I'm too shy

I don't want to be afraid

But still meek anxiety

Drives me insane

I want to make everyone happy

Be everything for them

But I just keep on failing

Again and again and again

I got sucked down the vortex

Vortex of a teenage mind

In this rolling, racing vortex

Questions are all I can ever find

This crazy vortex

Feels like a roller coaster

I'll fight through what comes next

This isn't over

In this cold and lonely vortex

I'll never be alone

God is here beside me

Guiding me back home

A gentle breeze in my mind

The softest hand holds my heart

My life is in His grip

He's held me from the start 

I'm caught in the vortex

Vortex of my racing mind

In this colorful vortex

Everything will turn out fine

New failure

What we want to change

Always makes a point to stay

What we need to stay

Is bound someday to change

Time flows too fast

They'll fall away

They'll never last

Moving on without us

No one left to trust

When we're stuck here

Trapped by our fear

Running in circles alone

Trapped in this box we call home

Surrounded by the rolling racing tide

But we can't enjoy the ride

Right here we stay stuck

The kids who never grew up

They say we'll learn and grow 

How do they know

They mock all of the adults

Who act like kids

Who won't give their all

Don't know how to exist

How long before that's you or me

Just when will we be

The kids who never grew up

Still we keep going

In the box, our own current flowing

The perfect future

We haven't found

Dusty wings brush the ground

Pulling, hoping, running, falling

Rushing, rising, living, flying

Maybe we didn't grow up 

Maybe we're still stuck

In our quirky reality

But we can still be

The kids who rose above

The kids who never gave up

miserable? I'm ruining my childhood. I'm letting my family down. “I’m worthless,” I whisper. The words feel too dense for the air, falling to the cement floor like bricks. Maybe because I said it out loud, or the intense emotion just ran its course, but either way I begin to calm down, my tattered breath returning to normal. I look up and unclench my fists, then take a deep breath and stand up on shaky legs. I survey myself in the dirty mirror that leans against a stack of totes full of clothes and books. I got the mirror off of the side of the road a few months ago because I thought I could make something cool out of the glass. My reflection looks almost as worn as the once-elegant trim. There are faint bags under my eyes, and my skin is sticky and gross, besides the fact that I’m beet red. My dirty blonde hair is a mess, and my arms look thin under my big t-shirt. I shrug. I look like the protagonist of a very dramatic movie. Pre glow up, of course. I giggle at that. Yeah, I’m a hot mess, but I’m not in a coming of age movie yet. Plus, I don’t have the right body type to be the protagonist of anything. Most days I feel too small for my body. Sighing, I head inside to refill my water bottle.

I pause outside for a moment, letting the cool air calm my nerves, maybe freeze out the rest of my dramatic thoughts. I’m careful not to let the house's front door squeak, but it doesn’t matter, anyway. The only light I can see is the dim glow from the lamp in the kitchen. It's enough to illuminate my younger sister, Alex, who is sitting at the table wearing a red t-shirt. “Hey, Brooks,” she says nonchalantly.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Am I not allowed to eat cheese balls at 10:30pm?” Her green eyes twinkle, and her high ponytail looks surprisingly bouncy for this time of night. 

I can’t help laughing. “It isn’t wise,” I point out.

“Eh, I’ll live. What were you doing in the garage?”

“You know I like to craft in the garage.” That isn’t a lie. All of my supplies are out there since it has more space and less carpet than our shared bedroom. I never said I was crafting now.

“Weirdo,” she says as I make my way back to the door, water bottle filled.

I stick my tongue out as I escape, still smiling for a moment. Then I let out a sigh. The whole exchange was so normal. She doesn’t know anything is wrong. To be fair, I have way better control when I’m with people. At least, over things like this. Truthfully, I might flip out about little things, like, multiple times a week. I really can’t hold it together. But I can hide some things. I don't tell anyone that I feel like life is running away. That I think everything I do and say is wrong and my existence itself is a waste of time and energy. No, I just complain loudly for entire afternoons about schoolwork, or freak out when I can't find the shirt I want to wear, or cry for two hours when my sister says something even slightly offensive. I might as well scream from the rooftops that I’m stressed. If I were nicer, I wouldn’t. I feel horrible when my mood affects the rest of my family, but I have no self control. I have to let my feelings out. If only I could tell them the reason just as easily. It's not like I'm really trying to hide anything, because I can't, I just feel like they don’t get it. I’m screaming, but nobody really hears what it is that I’m saying.

Still, maybe Alex doesn’t know that anything is wrong because when I spend time with her nothing is wrong. Much as it hurts that nobody knows what’s going on, sometimes I need a reality check. She doesn’t give me the time to be worried or confused because with her I'm too busy giggling over something stupid or we’re mercilessly skipping each other’s turns in Uno. She’s my bright side, my chill pill, my personified therapy. My sister is my best friend. 

It's just that if I'm being completely honest, I don’t know if she’d even care that I’m upset. That's what scares me most.

I know I’m being stupid. Why should she care? There’s nothing to care about. I’m inventing problems. It’s an illusion for me alone. She has her own life, and probably her own problems. She is the one with the learning disorder, after all. I’ve seen her crying to Mom about her struggles, though she’s usually strong. Gosh, I’m so selfish. I should be worrying about her instead of being upset that she isn’t worrying about me when there’s nothing to worry about. You see what I mean by dumpster fire now, right?

Putting my complicated thoughts and instinct to keep breathing way too fast aside, I reenter the garage and force myself to focus back on my tablet, which is open to a YouTube dance tutorial. Dancing is probably one of the reasons I'm even in this state of mind right now, but it's also something I love to do. I'm dumb like that. I dance all the time for fun, but it's not like I'm any good at it. Now's as good a time as any to change that, though. And if I give my stupid fat body some excercise in the process, that won't hurt, either. Dancing is only one of my many projects (sometimes I feel unaccomplished and empty if I don't have enough short term goals to work on), and lately it's been hard to keep up with all of my endeavors plus school. That's not even to mention family or friends. My entire life feels off kilter, but I really do love to dance, even if the garage is a small practice space. So I turn up the music and focus. 

I'm currently trying to learn "Can't We Just Leave The Monster Alive?" by TXT. I just need to hear, “It’ll be alright, alright, alright,” because right now my whole body is telling me that it will most certainly not be alright. But I don't have to think as I follow the screen propped up against the mirror and the beats playing in my ears. All I have to do is move my body in a certain way, a bounce here and a twist there, and suddenly I'm dancing, and then it's just me and the music and the sweat on my back. And for a while I truly feel alive.

That's until I try to perfect the pre-chorus. I replay Yeonjun’s key footwork around fifteen times, but I just can’t keep the steps in my head. They’re probably bouncing off of the same suffocating wall that keeps reflecting all of my thoughts back onto each other in one big jumble. After another ten minutes or so, I’ve gotten exactly nowhere. Glaring at my reflection in the mirror, I decide that I will keep going until I get it. Twenty minutes later, I’m kicking the wall in defeat.

I decide to work on another end of the world issue instead: crafting. Funny story on that:

"Hey, Brooks, just coming to check on you," Dad said yesterday. He ducked to avoid hitting his head on the hanging light as he entered the garage. A breeze followed him through the door, cooling my face as I hurriedly turned off the phone and went to stand by my craft desk. I pretended I was busy with the glue gun, but it really wasn't even plugged in. "How're the crafts coming?"

"Good," I said casually, even as my mind flickered to the Etsy order I had yet to start.

"You're doing that show with Aunt Dede on Saturday, right?"

Shoot. Shootshootshoot.

"Oh, I almost forgot! Yup!" Or did forget and completely screwed myself. Whatever.

"You've been working hard out here lately. You should be pretty well prepared."

"Uh-huh! Definitely!" Nope. I was not prepared. Not at all. In fact, I was doomed.

I grabbed the phone to text Aunt Dede as soon as Dad left. Scooching myself up to sit on the hood of our old lawnmower, I typed, "R we still doing the craft fair Saturday?"

Her response came through seconds later: "Of course! I'll pick u up at 8."

"K, how much are you bringing?"

"I was going to do 20 hats and 10 paintings. Why?"

"Just trying to figure out how much I should bring." 

'And make,' I thought as I sent the message.

"I'd say around 20 key chains and 20 headbands. Are u doing shirts?"

I bit my lip, drumming my fingers on the back of the phone. I had five key chains made, and the materials for at least fifteen more. I also had the decorations for the headbands, but not enough plastic bases. T-shirts are fun to decorate, but I wasn't sure I had time. Six days to make fifteen key chains and twenty headbands was bad enough. I'd also need to buy more plain shirts. It probably wouldn't be worth it. Screw that. I could do it. It should've been started already, anyway. "Yeah, will 10 shirts be ok?" I typed.

"Sounds perfect."

I smiled. Perfect. I could do this.

So now I set to work. One key chain, four headbands, and a few paint stains on my jeans later, I'm so tired I can hardly stand up without wanting to die on the spot. Besides that, the garage is freezing. I reluctantly trudge back to my bedroom, where I find Alex fast asleep. The wise decision would be to go to bed myself, but do I? Nope. Instead I find myself eating chocolate ice cream out of the carten while watching YouTube at one in the morning. Sighing, I finally turn the device off. I didn't care about anything when it was on, but now I have to–ugh–think. Why am I so stupid? One in the morning on YouTube, yet I can't bear to keep working on things that need done. If I put so much pressure on myself that it causes this weird anxiety thing (which it shouldn't), I could at least hold myself to my standard. I'm being all dramatic, yet I'm still so light on myself. Some days–or nights–the world feels impossible. 

I don't have much trouble falling asleep, my body tired and my mind quickly falling back into the digital world. Of course. I'm pathetic. I do have lots of trouble waking up in the morning, but I eventually drag myself out of bed. It's an hour later than I want it to be, which fills my chest with a tight frustration, but I push past it and open my computer to begin classes.

I realize it's open to a coding screen. That's the other thing I've been working on.

I was headed to the garage with my phone last week when I glanced down and quickly changed my plans. I saw a text from my friend, Zara. "You busy?" She asked. 

I had a feeling I knew where this was going, so I replied with a, "Nope!" Sure enough, I was soon riding my bike down the road, my heart thumping a little too hard. The sky was bright, yellow leaves crossing my path as I pedaled harder. Cold air snapped at my cheeks, and I breathed it in happily.

My heart beat even faster when I came to the end of the road. As always, I hesitated at the light, even when there were no cars coming. I wondered if I should turn back, but I didn't. Eventually I rolled into the busier road and made my way down, towards the park. I flinched every time I heard the whirr of tires behind me, and I could barely see past the tangle of blonde hair flying into my eyes, but the speed made me feel alive.

Zara was already on the swings when I swerved through the gate, skidding on the gravel. "Yo!" I called with a smile, half waving as I hopped off of the seat and put my kickstand down. "Nice hair," I added, observing the purple and blue mixed into her rich brown locks that peaked out from underneath her beanie.

"Thanks, I died it myself," she said airily, brushing it off of her shoulder.

"No you didn't," I told her.

"Fine. They're clips."

"That explains the beanie."

"What? It's cold out."

"Uh-huh." I sat down on the swing beside hers. "So-ome things never cha-ange!" I sing-songed. I knew the clips were horribly scattered on top of her hair, just like she had worn them when we were nine. That had been when I went to public school. Since I started cyber schooling this year, I haven't seen as much of Zara, so it was a relief to know she was still the same goofball.

"Ugh, not Frozen!" Zara protested.

"Come on, you used to have a Frozen backpack," I reminded her.

"Used to. Meanwhile you still have a Hello Kitty T-shirt."

"Hello Kitty is cool, and I bet that backpack is still in your closet."

"I hate you," she informed me. We laughed, our voices echoing across the deserted playground. I kicked hard at the ground as Zara started playing music off of her phone. Soon I was going much higher than she was, practically flying away from the world. For a moment I envisioned the chain breaking. I would just fly forever. I shared this idea with Zara, and she laughed at me. "That would hurt," she commented.

I giggled. "Whatever."

Truthfully, I felt like I was flying already. The park is one of the few places I'm allowed to go by myself, let alone actually have the means to get to. Going there with Zara feels like freedom. With how I've been feeling lately–stressed beyond imagination even though I don't actually have anything interesting going on in my life, trapped in my own mind, boxed in by my stupid temper–freedom is something I'm learning to cherish.

"Oh! I saw this thing online, you have to do it!" Zara exclaimed after a few moments of swinging along to the music without talking.

"Do what? I'm not breaking any laws, ok." I giggled.

"Shut up, I'm trying to explain!"

"Sorry." I held my hands up in surrender, then nearly fell off of the swing. Zara snorted as I hurriedly regripped the chains. "Go on," I said casually.

"It's a coding competition for high schoolers. The winner gets free classes and a trip to LA!"

"Seriously? That's so cool!" I said, designs already coming together in my head.

"You have to do it," Zara said again.

I smiled. Why not? "Duh!" I agreed.

"I'll send you the link so you can look at it."

"You're the best."

We parted twenty minutes later, each heading in our respective direction for the long ride home. I felt light as a feather, full of sunshine and joy.

So that's another thing I've got going on. The days are taking on a regular schedule. Wake up, get mad about waking up late, school, meltdown (some days worse than others), guilt, coding (everyone assumes I'm doing homework on the computer; they think I work harder than I do), go outside if it isn't dark or raining (I'm beginning to hate the dark), dance (usually only for twenty minutes), crafts, watch YouTube, bed. Time is ticking away. Rain pounds on the garage's metal roof more often than not, making me feel even more anxious.

I never get everything that I want done. I always feel like I'm drowning, but in reality I'm fine. My headbands and key chains are getting sloppier. Every time I think I might be getting good at dancing, I look in the mirror and realize I'm still as awkward as ever. As for coding, progress is slow. It's been a hobby of mine ever since I took an online class for fun two years ago, but I've never tried anything as big as this contest.

I guess it makes sense that I'm stressed. It's clear that what I'm doing is too much, but it shouldn't be. I love these things. I want to be able to handle them. I will be able to handle them. Still, I hate this feeling. I know I'm wasting my time being miserable and that scares me, because I only have so much time. One day I'll wake up and be in the 'twenty years later' epilogue, a grown woman with actual responsibilities. I want to be a kid while I can, but I don't know how to escape myself. I try to be carefree, but sometimes it feels forced and leaves me even more stressed. It's like there's a gaping chasm inside of me, blocking the way to what I really want, whatever that is at this point. One wrong step and I'll go plummeting down into the void.

In the end, it's a tiny thing that sends me crashing down. I'm trying to perfect the chorus to "Can't We Just Leave the Monster Alive?", but I keep getting stuck on a certain part. I repeat it over and over. And over and over and over. And– I have no control over my feet. I hear plastic and metal crashing together as I stumble into my desk, sending craft supplies flying everywhere. I don't even hit that hard, it barely even hurts, but it's enough to make the tension that's been building for weeks light up as rage in my chest. 

I choke out a scream, wildly tearing things off of the desk and hurtling them across the room. Buttons, plastic headbands, tape, copper wire, it's all bouncing off of the piles of junk. My eyes are burning. My throat is burning. Everything is burning. I wish I could throw harder. I wish I were stronger. I yank the glue gun's cord out of the wall and throw that, too. A sickening crack fills the air and I look up just in time to see cracks like spider webs spread over the surface of the mirror. I'm frozen for a moment, staring at my fragmented reflection. 

"Are you ok, sweetie?" It's Mom. She cracks the door open and peeks through, concern clouding her brow when she notices the craft supplies littering the already cluttered room.

I humm out a reply, but it doesn't sound all that convincing. Especially since I'm crying the next second. And trust me, I would prefer to not be crying right now, but the tears are there anyway, tickling the inside of my head and spilling out of my eyes. No matter how hard I might try, I can't hold them back. And so I stand there ugly crying in front of the broken mirror. I never could hide my emotions.

Mom doesn't say anything else as she enters the garage, sidestepping clutter to come and wrap me up in her sturdy arms. I remain stiff for a moment, my movements delayed by the thoughts running through my head. It wasn't even twenty minutes ago that Mom was yelling at me about my horrible attitude towards Alex. Guilt washes over me as I lean into her embrace. She's so soft and warm. Why do I have to make things so hard for her?

She holds me like that until my tears subside. My back is a little stiff by the time she pulls away, and then it's only to take hold of my shoulders and look me in the eye. I'm having trouble looking back at her brown eyes, so full of compassion and well-concealed weariness.

"I'm sorry I yelled earlier," she says gently.

"Sorry for being crappy," I reply, sniffling.

"I get that you're stressed. Life can be…a lot. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"It wasn't your fault." Because it wasn't. It was my fault. I was the one making everything difficult. "Mom, what's wrong with me?"

"I think you're overwhelmed with a lot of things right now. And I think you might not be the best at handling those emotions."

I let out a wet snort at that. "No duh."

I expect her to lecture me, point out all of my mistakes, tell me how to make it better but I still won’t be able to change anything. She doesn't. She doesn't say anything for a while, just takes my hand and gently rubs the back of it. "It won't always be like this. You're so much more than you think you are. You're going to be ok."

On the one hand, they sound like generic, empty words. She can't possibly know that anything will get better, and I like to think I have a fairly realistic perception of myself. Still, I want to believe her. Because she sounds so sure, so sincere. And she's looking at me with love, not judgment or even much pity. "I love you, Brooks. You're so loved. And that has nothing to do with your performance." And that was it, the words that break my resolve, crumble my walls. Finally the pieces clicked into place.

Fresh tears burn my eyes, and I have no choice but to bury my face in Mom's shoulder, letting the soft fabric of her blouse cushion me. She giggles, patting my head and then hugging me some more. 

We pull apart at the sound of Alex screaming from inside the house. "MOM! HOW LONG DO I COOK THE FRICKIN' HAM FOR?"

"Ham?" I ask, immediately perking up from how I was moments ago.

"Your sister's helping, so don't get your hopes up," Mom laughs, getting up to go assist her.

I laugh too, and then feel Mom's eyes settle on me, a fond smile on her face. "You good now?"

I shrug. "Better. Thanks, Momma."

I stare at the door for a few moments after Mom leaves, then turn around to assess the damage… and let out a verbal groan. The mere sight of the garage is overwhelming. It isn't going to fix itself, though. I gingerly pick up a piece of glass from the floor, careful not to cut my finger on the sharp edge. I can see my left eye staring back at me, bloodshot and shiny from crying. I hold the piece back a little and smile without opening my mouth, watching the dimples appear on either cheek. I don't look amazing, but I look alive. And that's the thing, isn't it? I'm still alive. And there's a lot more to my life than what's going on in my mind. 

I think back over the last month, over the good points instead of bad. Laughing with Alex. Swinging with Zara. Teasing Dad. Hugging Mom. Sunshine in between the clouds. Wind on my cheeks and stars in my eyes. People I love by my side. I'm loved. I'm loved by so many people. They might not understand every thought I have, and I might not be able to articulate everything, but they do care. Between all of the business, or maybe because of it, they make my life beautiful. 

It took me a while to realize it, but rain makes things grow. The darker a night is, the brighter the stars are. I might be a little bit of a disaster, but I'm not alone. I don't know anything about anything, but maybe learning is what makes life exciting.

My problems don't all disappear in a flash. This isn't a fairytale. There are still bad days, lots of bad days. Sometimes I kick myself back to square one, maybe even lower than that, but every time I make it back up. The light is definitely shining through. I might not be perfect, but I think I'm going to be alright.

Timid smiles, full of fear,

And tired eyes bearing tears.

Still it all keeps on turning.

The same old sun, it keeps on burning.

Still we see these flickers of life;

Hearts not yet broken by their strife.

Weathered souls produced by trials

Still endure with gentle smiles.

What if we can get up and rebuild?

What if the cracks in the ground can be filled?

What if hope puts them back together?

To the other side we can weather.

We’re taking charge from now on.

The days of cold and despair are gone.

We’ll stand up, wipe off the dust.

Nothing in this world can break us.

Full of bittersweet memory.

When I found the melody of our summer

Amid cold and frigid winter.

A new dream unlocked inside of me,

An anticipation,

The culmination of

Everything I love,

A wonder for life.

I was ready to learn to fly

The day my wings began to grow,

Unfolding under winter snow,

Verses floating in my mind,

Magic I could almost find.

Puzzle pieces fall together

In this preview for warmer weather.

Life is not just memory,

But present joy,

The joy to breathe,

Every moment getting higher.

Passion burns in me like fire.

I still remember broken nights,

But on and on and on I’ll fight,

If only for the days like this,

When cold holds off,

When warm resists,

When highs and lows of adrenalin

Leave me in the place I’m in.

      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.

of mercy to the evil to take or leave. If they take it, they will naturally change for the better (1 Corinthians 5:17). Leave it, and they will be firmly punished. They had their chance.

     God does everything that He does out of love. He loves His creation, despite everything, so He shows us mercy. He loves His children who accept mercy, so He punishes those who are still guilty. His love is resilient, like a bulletproof wall shielding us. God loves us with a passion, though we don’t deserve it. 1 Corinthians 13:4 says, “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.”

     Think of your person again. Now imagine all of their faults taken away. Imagine them with all of the power and authority in the world. They still don’t look at all like God. One essay hardly comes close to describing His majesty. He is the definition and source of every good thing. He is great and wonderful. He is like the sky above our heads; magnificent and always there, yet impossible to physically touch, feel, or comprehend.

Mirror, mirror, go away.

Don’t ruin me, don’t waste the day.

Mirrored wall breaking down,

I think at last I hit the ground.

     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.

I can only escape

Into the grotto of my mind 

But it's lonely up there.

I want to share it with you.

Should I share it?

Please be my escape.

Can we run away together

Right where we are?

fiercer until she thought her body would explode. She opened her mouth to cough or scream, but was met with the thick taste of rot. She writhed, kicking her arms and legs with the little strength she had left as the invisible enemy pursued her. It was no use, no matter which she turned, it was all the same. All black. All painful. Her mind was racing like a guinea pig on its wheel, so fast that she couldn’t catch any of the thoughts. Tears stung her eyes. Everything hurt. The world was spinning. That was when she saw a murky, green-brown light. She wasn't thinking at all, all she knew or cared about was reaching that light. Her own body was a blur as she thrashed with all her might. At last she bobbed up into blinding sunlight, coughing fiercely and gasping for air. She fell under again almost immediately, but kicked her way up once again. The water almost seemed angry, though. She was only able to hack out one strained shriek for help before it forced her under again. This time she stopped fighting. The world was already dark. Now it was going numb, too. 

"Are you sure that's all you remember? Sarah asks as Kayla finishes retelling the story.

"Uh huh,” Kayla replies in a hollow tone. "After that I woke up on the beach and you were there, and we started talking. You mentioned a friend named Kayla and I thought that was familiar. You know what happened since then." She says it all without any emotion, fiddling with the pink petals of a nearby flower as she talks. They are hidden in Sarah's garden, which is between Mrs. Wilson's house and the shed that serves as Sarah and Kayla's bedroom. The shed is tucked back into the dry weeds where nobody notices it. Because nobody ever goes back there, the garden is a bit secret. The reason it has to be secret is because clean water is scarce in the town. It needs to be brought in from other places, but it's getting scarce there, too. Not only does Sarah need to share her rations to make the flowers grow, she needs to protect the flowers from the toxic rain. Because of these inconvenient factors, gardening is illegal. Sarah can't give up her garden, though. It's the only place where she feels like she can breathe, both literally and mentally. Now sunlight is slanting through the leaves and landing on the rusty bench where Sarah and Kayla sit. Sunflowers are growing up to their left, and the ground ahead is carpeted in purple. Two white butterflies are playing in the air, and a bird chirps not far away.

"I know what happened from there up until you saw those butterflies and said they reminded you of something. What was it?" 

“I don't know.”

"Well, think! Don't you want to remember?" Sarah presses gently. Kayla shruggs.

"Hey, I get that knowing can be hard. I know how my parents died, and now I'm afraid of fire, but I'd still rather have that than just cluelessness."

Kayla is silent. 

"Do you want to live in the dark?"

"I really don't care." 

"Do you care about anything?"

“No.”

“I should've known, I guess. Ever since I met you, you haven't smiled once. You're beautiful, but you’d be so much prettier if you smiled.” Sarah pauses thoughtfully.

Kayla knows what she wants to ask, but she is hesitant. "Do you think I have a personality?"

Sarah doesn't know what to say. She doesn't want to be rude, but Kayla needs her to answer honestly. "I think you could have one,” is all she can offer. 

"I knew I didn't,” Kayla states almost matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry.”

“But you think I could?" There is almost a hint of emotion in her tone. The tiniest glint of hope. "Of course, who's stopping you?" 

"I don't know. Somebody."

"What?" 

"I think... I think I used to have a personality. I used to care. I can just barely геmember what it felt like. I want it back, but I just... can't. Something won't let me." 

"Kayla! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sarah asks, excited. 

Kayla shrugs."What's the point?"

"The fact that you want it proves there's still something there! Whatever is holding you up,

we can work past it. Nothing can block you from being yourself!" Sarah exclaims, her brown eyes sparkling passionately.

Kayla just stares into space.

“Pease. Just try,” Sarah pleads more gently. 

Kayla continues to sit perfectly still, her graceful hands folded in her lap, for an unnaturally long time. 

"Kayla?" Sarah begins to get worried. “What's going on?”

Kayla still doesn't move, but her breathing gradually gets heavier until she is panting as if in terror. 

"Kayla..."

All at once she sucks in her breath and springs up off of the bench. She leans against a small blossoming tree and does the most shocking thing while still catching her breath. She smiles-- no, grins. True to what Sarah said earlier, Kayla is a thousand times more beautiful when she smiles. Her pale skin lights up and two perfect dimples appear on her smooth cheeks. Her petite nose scrunches ever so slightly and, most importantly, her crystal blue eyes open wide to let the world in. She is so shocked, all she can do is laugh.

Sarah, taken aback, can't help giggling, too. “Kayla! Are you ok?" she manages to squeeze out. 

Kayla shakes her head, causing her curls to bounce before answering. "Not Kayla! I know who I really am!"

"What?" Sarah stops giggling and stares into the eyes of Kayla, who has also regained her composure. "Did you say…” 

Kayla nods. "You were right, nothing can stop me! I remember everything! I have a personality!” 

Sarah doesn't know how to respond. “Kayla, that's... amazing!" 

"I remember my real name, too. Call me Kalalaya.”

"Kalalaya?" 

She nods.

"That's not a normal name. I love it." 

"It's not normal for humans, anyway." 

"Wait..." 

"I'd better explain from the beginning."

So Kalalaya tells the whole story. As it turns out, she isn't human. She's a living particle of water. The community that she lived in before makes up the lake near Sarah's hometown where the foul water comes from. They are called the cursed, because they were doomed to a stagnant life of waste by the evil witch, Genella. Legends claim that Genella cursed the community by mistake in an experiment but didn’t bother trying to fix the damage. Nobody could punish her since the crime was unintentional, but she still faced seclusion. The lack of contact with other creatures and the knowledge that everyone was blaming her made Genella  hard and bitter.

The curse made everyone useless. Some got angry and rebelled, completing their usual journeys anyway. This spread the poison farther and harmed the crops in town. Most just stayed put, living a useless life of nothingness. Spirits in the community sank low and lives became bland. Kalalaya handled it differently. She knew she couldn't let anger control her since that only harmed others, but she wasn't going to sit around and let life pass by without any action, either. What she did was make her own fun and adventures where she was, spreading her happiness and curiosity with the rest of the community to ease the gloom. Life was pretty good for Kalalaya, who never stopped dreaming about going on journeys someday, but what she didn't know was that she had an enemy. It was Genella, who was by that point an angry and depressed creature who didn’t want anyone to be happy without her. With nothing better to do, she set her focus on getting rid of Kalalaya.

An opportunity came sooner than Genella had expected when rumors started spreading about a water creature who'd turned into a human. Kalalaya thought that would be the perfect opportunity for adventure, so she began searching out ways to do it herself. That was when Genella reached out in disguise and offered to perform the magic on the over-eager girl.

"We met in a cave where she told me to go a few weeks ago, and then she cornered me and revealed who she really was and that her plan was to turn me into a dull human forever to get rid of me,” Kalalaya goes on.

"Why would she tell you?” Sarah asks, eyes wide. 

"I'll bet she wanted to see me afraid, rotten scum--"

"Were you afraid?"

“Well, I don't think anyone could be pleased about something like this! But it's over now, and I have my personality back, so it worked out." 

“Did it, now?” a high, cruel voice demanded from the side of the garden, making both girls jump. They turn to see a tall, bony figure standing with her hands on her hips. Her wrinkled face is creased in a permanent frown.

"Mrs. Wilson! W-why are you--" Sarah begins. 

"Sarah, dear! I asked you to wash the dishes ages ago! Now stop playing in fairyland and show some gratitude for what I've done for you!" Mrs. Wilson snaps, uprooting a sunflower and tossing it aside as she talks. 

"Yes m--”

"Wait!" Kalalaya puts her arm out to stop Sarah from standing up. 

"Ah, and Kayla--"

Kalalaya growels at this. 

“--you never emptied the waste bin, and now I've got to do it myself.” With that, Mrs. Wilson picks up a basket the girls hadn't noticed before and dumps its contents into a patch of petunias. 

"You can't just--”

"That's going to hurt my people!” 

"Oh, that's right, Kalalaya, was it?" 

"How long have you been listening?" 

"Long enough to know what I need to know." 

"And that means…”

“I know that my fool of a sister is at it again. I'm on her side this time, but of course she can't pull it off! Now I'll need to step in." 

"Wait, did you say--”

"Yes, yes, what a shock. Unfortunately, Genella is my sister.”

"But you're a human..."

"Did you honestly think she just made that one mistake? I'm another of her failed experiments. Filthy rat turned me human, can't turn me back." 

"Then why are on her side now?" Kalalaya asks, immersed in the story.

"You were this close to breaking her curse with your happiness--" Mrs. Wilson spits this word out, “--and they don't deserve to fly free while I'm stuck here. Getting rid of you was the best bet. Since she couldn't do it, I will," Mrs. Wilson raises her voice on the last two words, making both girls jump. In a quick motion, she has them hovering in the air above the bench. They both shriek at the same time. Kalalaya begins kicking and writhing in the air while Sarah freezes in terror.

"Let us go!" Kalalaya shouts. With a nod of her head, Mrs. Wilson dropps both girls to the ground. Sarah crashes into the corner of the bench and sits panting on the ground. Kalalaya Falls onto a thorny rose bush. "Thanks," she grumbles. 

"That was just for fun. Now it's time to finish what my idiot sister started!" 

"She's going to take away your passion. Do something!" Sarah whispers urgently. 

Kalalaya immediately begins to panic. Palms sweating, she has the feeling like she's suffocating. It's the same way she felt when Genella cursed her the first time. But she made it through that. She can do it again. Before she knows what she's doing, she stands up and realizes that Mrs. Wilson is on the ground breathing hard. "What did I just do?" Kalalaya asks.

"Something,” Sarah breathes.

"Did I... take her powers?"

"Looks like it."

Mrs. Wilson is now pulling herself up, sputtering and swearing. She waves her arms at the girls like mad, but nothing happens. 

"Were you too strong for her?"

"I guess." 

"I wonder if you could defeat Genella, too. Would that break the curse?" 

"It makes sense. Going after the source has to work better than ignoring the problem. I'll just have to figure out how to get to her." 

"Are you aware that you're shrinking?" 

"Ah! What? Sarah, I think I'm changing back!" Kalalaya is already half as tall as her friend. 

"Well, that explains how you'll get to Genella."

"Will I be strong enough to defeat her?" 

"Of course. You can handle anything."

"What about Mrs. Wilson?"

"I'll get the police to take care of her."

"And you?”

"I'll be fine, but will I ever see you again?"

"Every time it rains, "Kalalaya promises just as she shrinks so small that Sarah can't see her.

Dad called it Abbyland.

I was always singing along 

To the theme songs of my favorite cartoons 

Over and over

And playing ponies 

All day long

But then the cheesy songs faded out

And the ponies trotted away

Gradually,

So I didn't notice.

Now I'm fourteen years old,

Something I never thought would happen. 

Here I am.

I used to think I'd never change, 

That I couldn't if I tried.

Now I'm not so sure.

I'm a teenager.

How long before I dress like it? 

When will I start to hide myself in makeup?

How long before my dolls go untouched? When will video games rot my mind? 

Has it already started?

I like a boy band. 

This is the beginning of the end.

Maybe I should just give in

And follow the trends, 

But I don't want to be

Just any regular teen. 

I'm not giving up on me.

I guess this is normal. 

I'm just growing, 

But what if we can grow too far?

What if we can forget who we are? 

When do we outgrow our personality? 

Am I leaving myself behind me? 

What if I could just flip back a page

And be that little girl again?

Who is she?

Where is she?

I want her

To still be me.

I guess it's good

That life goes on

And bad times pass, 

But what's the price?

The good times fade off, too,

And we're left

To miss ourselves.

I'm thinking all this through,

My mind is one big mess,

When the sun smiles down on me,

Relieving all the stress.

I'm six years old again,

Reaching for the sky. 

Limits, they don't matter. 

I feel like I can fly.

Nothing has changed.

We don't change. 

We can't. 

What if we just expand? 

I've learned to try new things,

And that is good.

I don't need dolls or ponies to be me,

And that is good.

The present is forming around the past,

Like the rings of a tree

Coming in fast. 

The first is still there,

Close to the core.

Maybe it's just hiding

To make room for more.

Maybe if I let it happen 

And don't go to extreme or extreme,

It'll happen gracefully

And that tree

Will still be me.

Maybe I should just live for life 

And like what I like. 

I don’t usually go with the flow,

But I won't try or try not to grow. 

Maybe someday I'll buy ripped jeans 

And try a croptop,

But if I do,

I hope I'll smile in the mirror

And remember to remember

Every heartbeat that brought me there. 

Remember who I was, 

Who will still be

Who I am.

Remember to cherish every moment.

I'll learn a little maturity,

But I won't lose me.

I've always been here. 

Is it wrong to like good music?

Am I still me if I don't watch kids shows? 

The outside doesn't define me.

I know

I will always be 

That child

At heart.

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?

I want to hear your song all night.

School starts going extra slow.

I spend twenty minutes on a question I know.

The music is the only thing on my mind.

It's all confusing;

I still feel fueled,

But so ill-timed.

School lasts all day long

And my night is burned on the song.

I have nothing to do with the ideas, you see,

I’ve run out of time to be me.

This is like a drug. 

It's like a medicine,

But I'm addicted.

It helps me, 

Heals me,

But too much only gets me hurt. 

Now I'm sick and burned.

"What did I do?"

I need to balance on this narrow tightrope. 

You inspire me to take the best of life, 

Make the best in life, 

So I just need to stop,

Focus,

Hit reset,

And full speed ahead. 

You're my fuel

As long as I'm careful

So you don't become my engine fire.

As long as I don’t start a fire,

You can only bring me higher.

That you'd use on anybody else

To really see yourself. 

It's a magical moment.

When you look in the mirror

And see your flaws

Without letting them define you.

It's a magical moment

When you look in the mirror

And love the person smiling back at you.

It's a magical moment

When you look in the mirror

And realize God knew what He was doing

When He put you together.

It's a magical moment

When you look in the mirror

And realize you don't need it anymore.

But I keep pulling myself down.

How do I get out of my way?

This is all nothing.

I'm making it up in my head

But it feels so real.

Why do I almost like it?

A hundred words I'm trying to say

Blare in my ears,

But I can feel the immense silence

Behind them.

Am I really saying anything?

I want to pour my heart out,

To write my every feeling,

But I don't know where to start 

Or where to go. 

Is this real?

I don't understand. 

I don't know.

But there's a pencil in my hand

And I'm holding on to it.

Holding on to my words, 

All of the colorful thoughts in my mind.

Holding on to each smile

That floats me through the day. 

Holding on.

I guess I'll start there.

Every night

I feel heavy as a weight.

‘Sleep tonight,

I'll do tomorrow right,’

I always tell myself.

So the cycle goes.

Filled with painful ninety percents

On schoolwork

And too many saves on Pinterest.

In between.

My words mean nothing.

I say what I'll do

To start or end the circular day,

But I never do it.

I say it to keep my wheels turning.

I don't want to stop moving. 

Even if I ride in the same old ruts 

Over and over again,

At least I'm moving.

The circle grows smaller

Little by little.

I'm growing dizzy. 

I spiral smaller and smaller

And soon I'll have nowhere to go.

Dizzy, so dizzy.

I need to get out. 

I need to break free.

These ruts, 

Why do they hold me?

I'm done

Running in circles.

There are infinite tomorrows,

More blank pages,

New roads to explore.

A whole future for me to write.

I need to start somewhere.

I'll go for today

Before today is yesterday.

It might be scary,

But I'm so dizzy there are stars in my eyes,

So I don't care. 

I'm going for it.

The rut is broken.

No more, 'This or that will be the time.’

This

Is

The time.

Now my head is clear.

I know the state of the world,

But I'm really happy.

Why?

I know this: 

Flowers bloom,

The sun rises,

And children laugh.

For every hurtful word

There's an encouraging hug. 

For every wound

There’s a bandage hidden somewhere.

I know about the darkness,

But I live in the light.

That's why I smile like this.

son, was the next ruler of Israel. God offered to give him anything he wanted, and he chose wisdom. God was pleased with this choice, so He gave Solomon wisdom and money. Solomon’s request proved that he was a selfless ruler, but he, too, sinned. He had many, many different wives and these wives had many, many different gods. Solomon himself began to worship the false gods, and that did not go well. He put idols in God's way. 

These kings did some terrible things to take them away from God, and it really isn’t all that different from when we sin in small ways every day. Faith is the most important thing, but it is easier than we think to mess up. Good thing God is always there, ready to forgive us if we ask.

     "Friend? Molly's your friend now? Molly?" Mindy asked scornfully.

     My face became a furnace as my stomach dropped to my toes. "What? No! She just won't leave me alone! I thought she was too small to be a real threat, even if she is Japanese, so I didn't bother trying to get rid of her." I don't know why I said that. It wasn't true, I just hated Mindy's tone.

     I was thinking all of this over when suddenly I heard the roar of an engine overhead. What the... I looked up to see a bomber with the Japanese symbol on it. I whipped my head around to cast an uneasy glance at the harbor to my right.

---------

     Days later I looked out the window to find a completely different island. The beaches were guarded with barbed wire and most of the ship's were gone. Destroyed. 2,335 men were killed plus 68 civilians. 1,178 more were wounded, including 35 innocent people standing by. I was one of those 35.

       I shuddered at the memory. The smoke had thickened the sky in an instant and the sharp fumes had made me dizzy. Debris from our ships were flying everywhere. I tried to run but suddenly I was slammed to the ground. I couldn't feel my legs. The whole world had begun to spin. I was sure that I was dead when I saw Lillian. She was running towards me in all of the mayhem. The world went black before anything else could happen.

     The next thing I knew I was seated on the couch with my mom. The scent of tea sweetened the air. Lillian was gone. I never saw her again after that. I never got to thank her. Or to apologize.

      Mom's are so perfect. They know when you need to talk and when all you want to do is curl up the legs you can't feel and cry because you're so confused by this point that you don't know what to say or even think. They know that sometimes you just have to let something out, so they let you scream like a madman as loud as you like. They also know when all you need is a good book.

       Oh, it felt so wonderful to be on solid ground once more! We had really made it. Well... not all of us. I remembered my brother with a sharp pang of sadness. Taking a shaking breath, I reminded myself that he was in heaven now.

     My legs wobbled beneath me, for they had grown accustomed to the tossing waves and the constant rocking. Unable to stand, I knelt down and have thanks to God instead. All around me other people knelt in prayer, too. It was like a Sunday's service right then and there. We hadn't even planned it out.

      It was the dead of winter. I shivered through my worn cloak and work dress, but the view below made it all worth it. The wilderness of trees and bushes before us was laced in a delicate frost that made even the thorns beautiful. It was as if a great spider had woven her web all around the forest. I had seen plenty of snow before in England, but it had never lost it's beauty to me. Something about this land was different, though. I was meant to be here. Agitated grumbles swelled up around me after some time, but all I could hear was the singing of my heart.

     Wild animals ran by, much surprised to find us at their doorstep, but they weren't what the leaders were worried about. I peeked  between shivering shoulders and made my way through the growing crowd to see what the trouble was. I heard cold whispers of "Barbarians" and "Wild men" that sent ants up my spine. But when at last I got to the front of the crowd, I saw nothing of the sort. What I saw was a small group of men with flesh and bones not so different from mine. They all had two arms, two legs, and faces just like me. So what was everyone scared of? Their skin was strangely dark and their clothes so very different, but what did that matter?

I was lost in thought long after I finished the introduction. How could this girl be so cheerful against all odds? I guess she was just doing what she could to make the situation better. Why couldn't I do that? I could try a new view. Lillian was gone. There wasn't anything I could do about that. What I could do was change my friends' opinions on her. Maybe one day she would come back and find an island ready to accept her, to admit that we are all humans. Maybe we could all take on a new view. 

JOANNE: Why do I always have to have my baby brother trailing me like some lame puppy?!

PAUL: J-Joanne...

JOANNE: None of my friends have annoying brothers following them all the time!

PAUL: Joanne! Getoutoftheway! (He shoves JOANNE out of the way just as a wide tree crashes right where she had just been standing.)

JOANNE: Paul! (She is sitting on the ground about a foot away from the tree. PAUL is sticking out from under it. He is unconscious.)

SCENE 2

(JOANNE is sitting alone in front of a light blue hospital bed where PAUL is lying, still unconscious.)

JOANNE: Mom and Dad just left to pick up lunch. I'll save my side salad for when you get better since you even eat like a nerd. (She laughs softly.)

(The DOCTOR, a tall middle aged man with dark skin and hair, enters the room. JOANNE doesn't notice at first.)

DOCTOR: If he gets better.

​JOANNE: (She jumps at the voice behind her and the terrifying words it spoke.) What do you mean? You must be stupid, of course he'll get better!

DOCTOR: (He is nervously fiddling with the end of his coat sleeve.) I'm sorry, but we get cases like this all the time.

JOANNE: (She tries to sound sarcastic but her voice wobbles unconvincingly.) A tree falls on a boy every day, huh? Gimme a break!

DOCTOR: A patent comes in sick or injured and the family only talks about when they get better. But when they don't get better, the family wails louder than a siren when I give the news. Been through it a thousand times.

JOANNE: (Tears are now dripping down her cheeks. Her voice is small and scared.) He might not survive?

DOCTOR: I really can't say. Here's my advice: focus on the good memories.

JOANNE: (She is talking to herself quietly.) Good memories...

SCENE 3

(A YOUNG JOANNE is sitting on a bed with a colorful quilt on the right side of the stage, crying. A YOUNG PAUL comes in, a look of concern on his face.

YOUNG PAUL: (He sits on the bed next to JOANNE and pulls her into a wordless hug.) 

YOUNG JOANNE: (She slaps his hand and scootches away.) Go away! You're not Buttercup.

YOUNG PAUL: (He walks towards the left side of the stage with his head down until he comes across a can of cat food and his eyes light up. He opens the can and gags, then walks all around the stage waving the stinky can around.) Here kitty kitty! Comere Buttercup! (The lights slowly darken and get bright again. He yawns and his head nods a few times, but he stays awake. When a yellow cat walks onstage, he triumphantly picks her up and brings her to the bed where JOANNE is still sleeping.)

SCENE 4

(The scene is back to the hospital room with JOANNE and PAUL. The DOCTOR has left.)

JOANNE: (She is crying even more now.) I'm so sorry, Paul! I ruined that like I ruin everything! (She bursts into a fresh batch of tears and puts her head in her hands.) I am a terrible sister.

YOUNG PAUL: (He is speaking from offstage.) Don't worry, Jo. I'm sure you can do better.

JOANNE: Not if I never get the chance! (She starts  angrily pacing back and forth across the floor by PAUL's bed.) What is wrong with me? This is my fault. All of it. I'm such a stupid jerk! (She stops pacing  and sobs, her shoulders heaving.) Paul, (She gasps before continuing.) I don't deserve you. I never have. But it's not fair that you should die, especially not because of me. I need to be more like you , but I can't if you're not here to help me. (She stops and sinks to the ground crying so hard. She curls into a ball and rocks back and forth until she calms down a bit.)

YOUNG PAUL: (Again he is speaking from offstage.) You know what I would do here, try it.

JOANNE: (She takes a deep breath and nods.) Dear God, um, thanks for giving me such a great brother. I'm sorry I didn't realize it until now. Sorry for how I treated him. I promise I'll try to do better if You'll only let him live. Please let him live. Please. Give me a second chance.

SCENE 5

(An OLDER JOANNE is standing in the driveway of a big house next to a red car. An OLDER PAUL is standing next to JOANNE with a big smile on his face.)

OLDER JOANNE: Can you believe I got my learners permit? Soon we'll be cruisin' all across the country! (She opens the car door.)

OLDER PAUL: Awesome! I can't wait! (He hops into the backseat of the car.)

OLDER JOANNE: Um, wait, are you coming today? I mean, this is my first drive in real traffic.

OLDER PAUL: Which is exactly why I can't miss it!

OLDER JOANNE: Are you sure you trust me?

OLDER PAUL: Always.

named Makaila. The story was called "Magical Makaila". It was very heavily inspired by Sofia the First and Cinderella even made a special appearance in it. I was proud of my tiny illustrated book when it was finished and stapled together (though I'm not sure where I got all the supplies). I think it was Grandma who said that Great Grandma would love for me to read her my story and Dad who explained that Great Grandma wasn't able to talk so I knew she wasn't ignoring me.

    So the two of them took me to the small room where she was. I think I got a hug from those weak arms. She looked so different laying there in some hospital gown instead of her usual big shirts with teddy bears and kittens on them in old lady designs. I sat down and read the story and she smiled when it was finished. I don't exactly remember what happened next, but in a while we were in our red van again, getting ready to leave. I remember most of the time I felt a little bit nervous but mostly indifferent about the whole situation. I didn't think she could die because I just couldn't imagine it. But then Dad was telling us about her last breath and how she had smiled, excited to see the Lord. "Don't say 'last breath,'" Kennedy said through tears. "It sounds too sad."

    I love my Great Grandma, who, even while she was dyeing, listened to me yammer on about princesses. She heard my first story and I can picture her up there smiling about how far I've come. Great Grandma was an amazing Christian woman and I know she is in heaven praising God right now. I can't wait to see her again one day and read her another story. This one will be about God's grace.

    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?

    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.

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

Now all is more than just okay”

That is what I hope to say

For courage does combat the fear

When I know that God is here

He makes me strong as a knite

I am sinless in His sight!

God’s love for us is even more amazing when we consider how undeserving we are. That’s right, Titus 3:3-5 says, “They must not slander anyone and must avoid quarreling. Instead, they should be gentle and show true humility to everyone. Once we, too, were foolish and disobedient. We were misled and became slaves to many lusts and pleasures. Our lives were full of evil and envy, and we hated each other. But— When God our Savior revealed his kindness and love, he saved us, not because of the righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He washed away our sins, giving us a new birth and new life through the Holy Spirit.”

What did God do that saved us and washed away our sins? “For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” -- John 3:16. That Son is Jesus Christ, who died on a cross to forgive our sins and rose again to defeat death. (You can read more about this in Matthew 26-28, Mark 14-16, Luke 22-24, or John 17-21.)

Can anything else be said? Love, love, love. God’s love. It will always be there to save us. Store that in your mind and remember it the next time you feel down and disappointed. Now all that’s left to do is give thanks to the LORD through prayer.

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.

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. 

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.

Dressing up my dolls,

Dancing along to Disney theme songs,

And making my friends laugh. 

I'm a bit dramatic.

(Maybe more than a bit)

I can be serious when I want to,

I like some "boring" things, 

And I'm really good at school,

But it all just adds to the vibrant mesh of me,

Who I've always been

And who I'll always be. 

There's just one thing.

I'm 14 years old,

Something I never thought would happen. 

I used to say I'd never be a teenager.

Well, here I am. 

I'd say I'd never change,

But now I'm not so sure.

"I'll always like My Little Pony." 

"No you won't."

"I'll never like a boy band."

"Yes you will." 

They were right. 

I don't know what happened to my pony figures

But they're gone 

And I don't care like I want to. 

I can't believe it

But I'm a fan of BTS. 

I can't help but love their personality,

Their message,

Their music.

Is it wrong to love good music? 

Am I still me if I don't watch kid shows anymore? 

It all sounds so stupid,

But if that can change so fast,

What else will I gain and lose?

I'm a teenager.

How long before I dress like one? 

How long before my dolls go untouched? 

When will I start to hide myself in makeup? 

When will violent video games rot my mind? 

I don't want to grow up.

They make it sound all great on TV,

But it's a trap.

"Life goes on.”

Yes, it's great to learn and grow, 

To let the bad times pass, 

But what's the price? 

Am I losing myself? 

Am I leaving me behind?

When do we outgrow our personality?

How do I stop myself from doing it?

What if we grow too far? 

What if we forget who we are?

I've never been able to go with the flow, 

But I don't think I'll try or try not to grow. 

I think I'll just let the real me show, 

Whoever I am, wherever I go.

Maybe I'll just live for life

And like whatever I like.

Does growth have to mean change? 

I could just be expanding.

The present is forming around the past;

It's like the rings of a tree

Coming in fast.

The first is still in there,

Close to the core.

Maybe it's just hiding

To make room for more.

Maybe if I let it happen

And don't go to extreme or extreme,

It'll happen gracefully.

And that tree 

Will still be me.

I don't understand it all,

But here's what I know:

Right now I have a fuzzy sweater on, 

Right now the world outside is beautiful,

Right now I like my dolls,

Right now I'm jamming to a boy band, 

Right now there's a smile on my face,

Right now everything is ok,

And right now is a day I want to save.

No matter what the future brings, 

No matter how I grow,

This is now 

And I'll always have the memories. 

If I ever decide

To wear ripped jeans and crop tops, 

I hope I'll smile in the mirror 

And remember.

I'm still the same little girl

On the inside.

Have you ever done wrong?

Then you're dirty.

I'm dirty.

The world is dirty.

Only one man was ever clean

And it wasn't Santa Clause.

Long ago in the city of Bethlehem

A child was born to a virgin

In a stable.

It was a humble birth for a king.

For The King,

The Son of God.

Merry Christmas.

That child, Jesus, was perfect and sinless.

He was the only human ever

Who didn't deserve capital punishment.

He grew up to die. 

He took the blame for our sins. 

And was crucified

To save us.

He even left the grave

To defeat death.

Merry Christmas! 

Now is the time to celebrate 

The birth of the greatest man ever to live. 

The birth of our Savior,

Who is the only way we can be good.

We only have to trust in Him

And be forgiven.

I don't know about you, but 

I think that's a much better gift

Than anything an imaginary man in a red suit 

Can deliver;

Salvation.

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 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!

To hold it all together, 

To make it fit, 

And to give it use.

Time--

It is running

Like the wheel of a broken wagon.

It rolls away, 

Too quick to catch, 

And leaves me feeling stranded.

Stuck. 

Lost.

Time--

It is here, now, 

Firm as the ground below me, 

Beautiful as the sky above. 

What lovely ground! 

Such magnificent sky! 

And it's been here all along.

It's seen every memory. 

Each hope is planted here.

Time is but a single thing. 

The past, the future, 

They both make the present.

Past, 

Present, 

Future, 

They all make time.

Of my innocent MG books. 

And just a bit too scared

For the daunting YA ones.

Too big for my old, simple bike,

 Too short for my 10-speed.

Young enough still to love my dolls,

Old enough to be embarrassed about it. 

I can enter the contests for teens, 

But their writing all stands over mine. 

I'm eye level with their elbows, 

And their shoulders lock together,

Blocking out the sky for me. 

The days of those clean stanzas 

With ever-perfect rhyme, 

They are all gone.

My words are scrambled, 

But falling back together 

In a lovely loose verse. 

I will be a butterfly 

And spread my colorful wings

With an intensified joy, 

With more freedom than ever

To be me.

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.

To share his mercy and grace about. 

You see, talents aren't just given out. 

No, God examines carefully

To see what most fits you or me 

So we can do our best possible

And use our talents to they're full 

To spread the love 

Of God above.

So an anxious mind is hard to control.

But it can be stopped!

Though it may seem to be impossible,

God can do anything,

He is in control,

And He loves to help His children.

All we must do is think of

And be thankful for

God and His many blessings.

It takes time and effort, but

God will help defeat that monster in your mind.

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.

I want to say we're all good. 

People show kindness to others. 

We create so much beauty

With our minds.

How could we not be good?

"And God looked at all He had made

And it was very good."

We are good,

Right?

But what about the evil?

I can't help but see it all around. 

Look at politics, 

And tell me all is good.

There are liars and thieves,

So we can't possibly be good! 

"No one is good. 

No, not one.”

I refuse to believe

That people are evil. 

I can't truthfully say 

That we are all good. 

What then? 

Is the world dark or light?

Black or white? 

I don't know which to choose. 

I don't know what to do.

Look at the chart of shades and tints.

What is between black and white? 

Each shade of gray 

Is a different person. 

White is good,

Black is evil,

And we are gray. 

Some good and some evil in each. 

We aren't good.

We aren't evil.

We're grey.

We have some of both.

Any evil defiles us,

But it doesn't have to define us.

Let the good in me

Be what counts.

You can't take away a deed,

Good can’t be erased,

But evil alone can be forgiven.

What happened to me? 

What about dolls and poofy skirts?

How long before they go too? 

What about crop tops and violent movies? 

How long before I'm into that? 

Has it already started?

"Life goes on,” 

But what if I don't want it to?

What if I could just flip back a page

And be a little girl again? 

Who is she? 

Where is she? 

Just when I start to understand

Life gets crazy once again.

What if life didn't go on?

What if I could just hit pause?

Bad times pass,

Sure, that's great, 

But what about the good times?

I want to stay forever

In my little world of ponies,

But I can't.

Life goes on.

Bad times pass.

Good times stick around.

I'll always have the memories.

They go on and on with life

As I make more every day.

It was never about the ponies,

And liking good music was never a sin.

It's about being me.

I'm not defined by dolls or skirts.

If I ever like shorter shirts or video games, 

I'll still be me.

Nothing important can really change.

Life goes on. 

I grow.

But I still have the same smile. 

I always will. 

The only thing that's changed? 

I've learned to try new things.

Concealing magical adventures

All the way.

I long to swim

Through the shining sea 

Of delicate ferns

To uncover

Those adventures. 

I see a mess of long lost trees

Which look to have been cleanly chopped 

Many years ago.

I wonder who has done it. 

The thought is so vivid, 

I can almost see their cabin

Beyond the trees.

Back in real life,

In the present day,

I feel a firm log beneath me

And soft leaves

Gently tickling my thigh.

I have stopped jumping 

At the loose hairs

Blowing against my shoulders.

They don't feel like spiderwebs

Anymore

Because parinoía 

Is gone.

A queen bee's buzz

Doesn't startle me, 

But instead blends

With the incredible chorus.

Of birdcall

And the unusually quiet hum

Of my rambunctious sister's voice.

The stench of bug spray

Doesn't bother me.

It is muted 

By the fresh, tangy smell

Of greenery.

It even adds

A sort of summer-like

Sweetness.

In the hollow

Of our own imagination. 

Writing, drawing, dreaming

With my sister by my side.

Both with notebooks in our laps,

Happy to have each other.

To understand 

The other's thoughts,

To enjoy

The other's hobbies.

To adventure

Together, 

But to still be unique.

Being our own people, 

Doing the same things

But each in our own way

In the hollow.

Whirperdee, whirperdee, whirper wee-wee-wee, werrwe!

Cheeper, cheeper, cheeper!

Wher-whepher, wepher!

   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!"

"Eeeek,” Mary shrieked, “Don't touch me or my stuff while covered in that muck!” she ordered. 

“Alright I won't but I don't expect me not to get filthy again, I darn love those woods! I ain't never gonna leave ‘em!" Carrie said. 

"Please remember to speak politely and use proper grammar,” Ma said quietly, her eyes on the ground.

“What's the matter, Ma," Carrie asked flat out. 

"Don't be rude, Carrie," Mary said, though she was curious herself. 

“No, I suppose I should tell you girls sometime,” Ma said. 

“Tell us what?" the girls asked in unison, Mary forgetting her manners.

"Well... we're moving,” Ma said after a long pause.

“What!?" Carrie cried. 

“Why?!" Mary asked. 

"Have you girls seen all the flyers going about for the Oregon Trail?” Ma asked. The twins just stared at their mother dumbly. "Well it is a group of covered wagons headed for Oregon. Your Pa has been losing a lot of money lately due to a few ruffians in town so we decided that this is the best choice to make sure we can support you girls and keep you safe," Ma explained. 

Mary started crying. Even though Carrie's eyes were also starting to fill with tears she was still the stronger, braver twin. She put her arm around Mary and said, "Well we can at least make use of the time we have left at this house." 

"That's the spirit, we don't have to leave for another month, I should have known that my Carrie would find a way to look on the bright side,” Ma said, giving both girls a big hug.

That month was wonderful, the most fun that was ever had at the Rightworth cabin. After chores the days were filled with swimming in the pond for Carrie, reading and working in the garden for Mary, and picnics for all. Then the horrid day came. The day that the twins had been dreading all month. The day they would leave the only house they had ever lived in. They would be leaving all their friends and family, never to return again. 

The day they left was clear and cool. The family drove their wagon into town to meet the rest of the train. Goodbyes had been said, tears had been shed, and now it was time to start the beginning of the rest of their lives. It was 5:00 AM on September 8,1844, a date that would stand in the Rightworth family history for centuries to come. The twins would have liked to crawl back into bed, or at least to hide out in the wagon for the rest of the day. It's not like they weren't used to getting up so early, they did almost every day, but they had cried most of the previous night and were in no walking mood. With the wagon fully packed there was no room for the girls to sit. For the next two hours they walked and walked AND WALKED. Finally it was time to break for breakfast.

Their progress was surprisingly slow so they were now on the outskirts of town. Mary and Carrie scarfed down their oatmeal very quickly and spent the rest of the time exploring around the other wagons. As they were walking by one of the other wagons they saw a girl sitting by one of the big wheels. Mary thought that the girl looked much older, maybe 14 or 15. She quietly kept walking out of respect and shyness. Carrie noticed that the girl held a book and was contently sketching a nearby flower. “Hello!" Carrie said, "I'm Carrie and this is Mary, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Um, hi, I'm Eliza," the girl said quietly. 

“That's nice, what are you doing?" Carrie demanded again. 

"Oh me, I'm just drawing. I promised my Ma that I would write to her about everything but words can't describe this beauty. I vowed to myself to sketch all the scenery and send it to Ma with my letters,” Eliza said. 

"Why isn't your Ma coming with you?" Carrie asked bluntly. 

“She can't, she is pregnant. My Pa is staying back with her, my uncle brought my little sister and I here with him. If all goes well Ma and Pa will come in about a year.” Eliza's eyes filled with tears but she tried to hide it. 

“How terrible for you,” Mary said sympathetically, "Why did they send you ahead?" Carrie asked.

“They said it was to keep me safe but I think they just wanted to get rid of me for a while,” Eliza said miserably. 

“You know that isn't true! I just met you but I think you are a very delightful person. I’m sure nobody would ever want to be rid of you,” Mary said soothingly. 

“I'm sorry if I made you sad," Carrie said.

"It's fine, I needed a good talk, and some friends,” Eliza said. 

"Maybe this trip won't be so bad after all," Mary said.

“Want to come walk with us?" Carrie asked.

"More walking!" all three groaned, then burst into laughter

The lessons in this story? The twins learned that however bad it seemed, they were lucky to have what they had. They also learned that friendship makes things better.

Don't you feel the comfort in the air? 

Love abounds, don't you see? 

To save the world with power and might,

Christ was born, delicate as a posy.

Unhindered by the clouds.

They are there,

So puffy and white,

Floating

Across the sky.

Ah, the sky!

So pure and blue,

So very big.

The scene is overwhelmingly peaceful.

The earth feels so huge!

God's wonders are endless.

From the chattering squirrel

Up that tree

To the neighbor's cat

Looking at me,

God made them all

So full

Of beauty.

The loft is a special place right now. 

It is nice and cute and cozy. 

There are twinkle lights and somehow

They make cold seem warm and rosy.

Dropped acorns crunch beneath my feet 

As I walk across the backyard. 

Leaves of cardinal, pumpkin, and wheat

Could decorate a lovely card.

Endless the activities now are; 

Feeling the thwang of our bowstrings, 

Tromping through the woods as we go quite far,

Pretending pioneers and things.

Hot cocoa we drink from teacups fine.

Pumpkin muffins taste wonderful. 

Patterned leggings you know are mine, 

My drawer of them is bursting full.

Piles of leaves are scattered about 

To be burned in cheery firelight,

Or put on the trampoline. Without 

Hose's rain, the leaves are a delight.

Perfectionists' school takes a long time, 

But when I am done, art and words, 

Perhaps a nice sketch and a rhyme,

Are inspired by fall in herds. 

Though fall may be different for another, 

The leaves still show second chances, 

Because they fall, they can start over. 

God shows mercy, the Bible says.

Will cause me to shout,

"Thank You

For all You have given me!"

And I will pray

For those who have less.

" Dear God,

Thank You for my family.

Thank You for my home.

Thank You for my faith.

Please comfort those who have no family.

Please comfort those who have no home.

Please show Yourself to those who have no faith."

When I am sad

It won't be so bad,

For when I'm gloomy as a rainy day,

I will pray

To God.

The future won't be dim

Because I will lean on Him.

I will explain to Him my troubles,

And He will always listen.

"Dear God,

Today my anxiety got out of control again.

Today I argued with my siblings.

Today was a bad day."

I will try to be thankful in

All that happens and once I begin,

It will be quite easy.

This is why:

Everyone since Adam and Eve

Is a sinner.

I am a sinner,

But I am forgiven

Because Christ, 

The perfect Savior,

Died for my sins.

Now all I must do

Is trust in Him to

Be saved;

To live forever

In a perfect paradise, 

Heaven.

I have so much wonderful stuff,

But it's not enough

Without this faith

In God.

He loves me so praises I sing

For He is always listening.

He will always be with me,

Forever.

So why shouldn't I pray?

Happy or sad,

Angry and mad,

Good or bad,

We should always pray.

"Are you ok, Frank,” Mommy asked her husband.

"I'm fine, but the attack didn't go as planned. We underestimated those humans, they know how to deal with wolves. More than half our army was hurt, not badly, but we can't beat those humans, arrrooo!" he cried again in pain. 

"Don't worry so much now! You need to rest. Tracy will get you some soup while I take a look at that leg. We ladies and the men who aren't hurt will make a new plan tomorrow," Mommy says, making the reluctant wolf comfortable.

"Do I have to come with you to the meeting?" Tracy whined the next day.

"Yes sweetie, you know very well that there is nobody to watch while your Daddy rests,” Mommy said in a voice that is both gentle and stern.

"But I don't like hearing about it," the young wolf complained. 

"I know what you mean, but this is going to make things better. We will not let those humans take our land,” Mama encouraged, as she led her daughter to the clearing where wolves attend to all their pack's protection. 

"Awww," Aunt Talila said, "I don't know why any human would want to harm such a sad, adorable baby."

Tracy's response was the tiniest giggle. 

"You just gave me an idea!” Mommy said to her sister. “Maybe we could get humans to see the whole pack the same way you see Tracy," she explained. 

“Those eyes could melt anybody's heart," one uncle said. 

"Should we try it?" another asked. All of the animals froze as they heard footsteps behind them. 

“Well, I don’t see any other plan," an aunt said. Tracy looked up at the humans with a pitiful expression on her face. The rest of the wolves did the same.

"Awwl c'mon Russel look how cute they are!” a man named Jim said.

"Cute!? They're beasts!" Russel exclaimed. 

"But look how sad they are!" another man, Lucus, protested. 

"How would you like it if someone destroyed your home?" Robert asked fairly. 

"As construction supervisor, I order you to start cutting these trees this instant!" Russel commanded.

"And what if we don't?" Lucus challenged. 

"I'm taking the matter up with Lily!" Russel said. 

"And? Lily has a heart, she'll agree to have the mall built someplace else,” Tim pointed out. 

Russel grunted and groaned, stomping back and forth. “Fine! It's not my problem anyway because I quit!" he explodes.

"Fine by me," said Robert.

"Go tell Lily," Jim said. With a final exasperated noise, Russel stomped off.

"Let's go look for somewhere else to build, boys," Lucas said. The wolves watched the humans walk away, astonished. 

"I think it worked!" Aunt Talila said at last. 

"Tracy, you saved the day!” Mommy cried. 

"Let’s go tell Daddy he won't have to fight anymore!” Tracy said, beaming and not looking a bit sad or sorry but even cuter than ever.

Megan suddenly sat up and looked around. She was sitting on the ground next to a stack of hay bales that was taller than she is. As Megan took in her surroundings she thought it looked like something out of her favorite book, Little House on the Prairie. Suddenly Megan saw a girl with brown braids come flying out of a nearby log cabin. A taller girl with blonde curls followed at a much more ladylike pace. Her blue dress was the exact same shade as the midsummer sky, which was not tainted by city smoke and smog. Before Megan could gather her wits the blond girl spotted her. "Laura look! There is a girl by our hay pile, she looks sad and confused. Let's see what's wrong!” 

Laura rolled her eyes. "But Pa said I could help him chop wood if I finished my chores on time. She is probably just taking a walk from one of the other homesteads," she said. 

“You get the water then, I want to meet this girl," the blonde girl said. So Laura walked off and the blonde girl walked over to Megan. “Hello, my name is Mary, are you alright?” she asked. 

“Everything is wrong!" Megan cried, “Of course I'm not alright!"

Mary was startled but didn't show it. "Tell me what happened," she said kindly. 

"Do you promise not to tell anybody?" Megan asked.

"Cross my heart." Mary said. Something made Megan pour out her entire story to Mary. Mary was a good listener and she helped Megan to get her thoughts straight. 

“Wait a minute, you're Mary and your sister is Laura... Do you by chance have a sister named Carrie?" Megan asked in an excited voice. 

“Ye-e-esss,” Mary said slowly, wondering how Megan knew this. 

“Is your last name Ingalls?" Megan asked, her voice getting high with excitement.

"Ye-e-e-essss," Mary said nervously. 

“Oh my gosh you are my favorite character in my favorite book series and your sister Laura is my favorite author!" Megan exclaimed. 

"What are you talking, about!?" Mary asked, thinking Megan was insane. So Megan told Mary about the famous Series. "How do I know you're not making this up?" Mary asked.

“Um." Megan had read the books 100 times each, there had to be some proof that they were real. “Your Ma's name is Caroline Quinner and before she married your Pa she was a school teacher. That is what you want to be too when you grow up," Megan said.

Mary just stared at her and then slowly nodded. "Ok, I believe you," she said.

"Good because I need to tell you that γου are going to…” 

Mary interrupted Megan before she could finish. "Please don't tell me!" Mary pleaded, "I want to accept troubles and learn from them as they come the way God designed it instead of trying to prevent what he makes happen." 

"So you're saying we should just let bad things happen when we could stop them?” Megan asked. 

"Sometimes," Mary said, “If God wants something to happen He will make it happen even if we try to stop it, and even if it seems bad at the time I know that whatever happens to me, it will work out for good because I love Him.” Megan was shocked at how much trust Mary had in God. She seemed very happy and content. 

“Does that mean being parentless and having my best friend dump me can be a good thing?” Megan finally asked. 

Mary nodded. “That Ellen girl does not seem like a very good friend, since you're already here and don't seem to have a way to get home, could I be your new best friend?" she asked. 

In response Megan gave Mary a big hug. "But where do I stay, your cabin is already crowded, maybe I could stay in the barn?" Megan asked. 

"I have a better idea," said Laura who had been eavesdropping for a good 10 minutes. 

"Laura Ingalls!" Mary scolded.

"Sorry but listen, I saw an Indian man and woman walk  by our cabin early this morning. In their eyes was the type of sadness that doesn't fade even after the many years have passed. The woman held an empty baby carrier. I think their child died, maybe you could comfort them by staying with them and letting them care for you,” Laura said. 

"Maybe that is why God caused you to come here,” Mary said. 

"Alright,” Megan said, "Let's go but Laura, promise not to put any of this in your books.” Laura promised and they set out for the Indian camp.

Jasmin seemed happy and later I found out why. She is detention queen and makes anyone in it do whatever she wants while she does nothing.

Thursday: Today I actually paid attention in some classes. I was actually happy because I made a friend. Her name is Malary and she is as short as a five-year-old. Because of that Jasmin used to tease her, But she learned to stand up to her and now she is helping me. We became friends in art class, when Jasmin was about to say something about my painting. Malary told her to leave me alone and then we got to talking and now we're friends.

Friday: Another good day! I sat with Malary at lunch and met her twin sister Melody and friends Angalina and Vicky. They invited me to a sleepover tomorrow! I finally have not ons, not two, but four new friends. And they have an art club I can join.

The weekend: What a great sleepover! We swam, we watched a movie, we had popcorn and cake, we talked, we became besties, and we had fun!!

"Mothers know, now keep the bonnet on," was the only response she could get.

“Yes Mama,” she said, running out the door. 

"Ladies don't run!” Mama called after her, but Charlet was already gone. Mama sighed, she opened her sewing box and looked at the pieces of purple cloth inside it. This plan better work, if it didn't work, what would? Meanwhile, Charlet was exploring the woods behind their house. What was that glimmering in the distance? She slowly started walking towards it. Was that... a creek! Charlet ran and splashed into the glassy, clear water. After splashing around for a while, she decided to go back to the apple tree and have a snack of cracker and apple.

On her birthday Charlet woke up bright and early. She hurriedly threw on her favorite purple dress and ran downstairs to the special breakfast she only got to have once a year. She inhaled the warm smell of cinnamon pancakes and syrup. There were also apples from the tree outside, crackers, and whipped cream. For lunch she would be able to have whatever she wanted, Charlet wanted chocolate. For dinner they would have the usual pork and cheese cubes. The best thing about dinner was Charlet's best friend Anabel would be there. Charlet sat down and found a small red package at her place setting. "I thought we were going to save all my gifts for tonight," she said, delighted. 

"We decided to give you one in advance,” her mother said as she sat down. 

"But first let's eat this delicious breakfast while it's still hot," her father added. With that they prayed and dug into the hot breakfast. Charlet wanted to open her gift but a meal like this could not be rushed. Once they were all done eating (Charlet’s parents took longer than she did) Charlet opened her present. As she tore off the red paper, Charlet saw something purple. As she ripped off the rest of the paper, a purple bonnet and apron. "Uuuuum, thanks,” Charlet said, hanging the bonnet on a hook and putting the apron on. At least it was purple.

That night after dinner Charlet and Anabel scurried up to Charlet's room to play with her new doll (Anabel gave it to her). "I should have bought one of my dolls," Anabel said. "I'm bored." 

Charlet sighed, “Me too," she said, then she brightened. "I know what we can do." Charlet led Anabel down the stairs and motioned for her to be quiet as they passed the kitchen, they grabbed their bonnets and rushed outside. 

"I thought you weren't supposed to go outside after dark," Anabel said. 

Charlet shrugged. “At least I'm wearing my bonnet," she said, “Besides, fall is here and it's getting dark so much earlier."

Anabel wasn't so sure. “But your mother said..." 

Charlet interrupted, "I was going to wait until you could see yourself but I found a creek.” 

Anabel instantly forgot about her fear, "Well what are we waiting for!"

"This is amazing! Want to explore further that way?" Anabel asked, pointing downstream. 

"Sure!" Charlet said. The woods were beautiful at night with the trees silhouetted in the moonlight. The creek sparkled like a black pearl under the stars. They had been splashing and giggling for a while when Anabel saw something. 

“Is that a CAVE?" she exclaimed. 

"I hope so," Charlet said, running towards it. "It IS a cave," she said, pulling Anabel in. 

"We shouldn't go in there," Anabel said, worried, "What if a raccoon lives there?" 

Charlet rolled her eyes. “Racoons are nocturnal, so they're probably out getting dinner." 

"What if they come back to eat it, and have us on the side!" Anabel exaggerated.

“You’re such a scaredy cat,” Charlet mumbled. Anabel would NOT be called a scardy cat. 

"I found this cave so I'm going to be the first to go in it," with that Anabel squared her shoulders and marched in. 

"What can I say, I know my friend," Charlet said as she followed her friend into the cave.

“Did you hear that?" Anabel asked. They were pretty far in the cave and she was getting scared again. 

"Did I hear what?" Charlet asked. 

"It sounded like a bat," Anabel said with a shaky voice. 

"Did you say b-b-bats," if Charlet was scared of one thing it was bats. She shook it off. "It was probably just your imagination," she said. Both girls were silent for a minute, listening. Suddenly, Charlet screamed! A bunch of rocks fell, blocking the entrance to the cave. 

"What is so terrible that you trapped us in here?” Anabel asked in a loud whisper. 

"Something brushed against my back," Charlet told her.

“Do you think it was..." Anabel started.

“Bat!!" Charlet interrupted. 

“I can finish my own question," Anabel said.

"No, there’s a bat flying over you!" Charlet yelled. 

Now it was Anabel’s turn to scream. "We have to get out of here!” she was on the verge of tears. 

"How?" Charlet asked. 

"We have to stay calm!" Anabel didn't sound very calm. 

"Ok stop screaming," Charlet was screaming herself. 

Anabel took a deep breath. “Ok, there has to be some way out of here, we just need to find it," she said. 

"Ok,” Charlet said, “There's a crack of light over there, maybe we can widen it and get out." Anabel looked at the crack and tried to think where it would be on the outside. “We can dig with rocks," she said. 

"Great idea!" Charlet said, looking for a sharp stone.

Anabel leaned back and sighed, "It feels like we have been digging for hours and all I've done is ruin my best dress." Charlet couldn't deny that it had been hours but she could deny that they weren't getting anywhere. 

"We did get somewhere," she said. “Now I can stick my hands through the hole and wiggle them a little bit." 

Anabel shrugged and then started singing. "I got a God who loves me, who watches over me-e. I got a God who loves me. He's every-thi-ing I ne-ed." Charlet joined in on the second verse. “I got a God who loves me with deep unfailing love. I got a God who loves me. He watches fro-om abo-ove.” 

"God will give us strength to get out of here," Charlet whispered. Anabel nodded and they kept singing and digging.

"Charlet! Anabel! Is that you?" came a voice from outside the cave. 

“Papa?” Charlet was almost scared to believe it was him. 

"How did you girls get stuck in there?" he asked.

“Long story,” Anabel said. 

"We’ll explain later,” added Charlet. 

"Help! There are bats!" Anabel cried. Papa took his pipe and helped them move away the rocks until there was a hole big enough for the girls to fit through. 

"Papa!" Charlet threw herself into his arms. After hugging his daughter and making sure she was ok, Papa became stern again.

“You two are in big trouble for sneaking out," he said. 

"We're sorry Mr. Yearlington, we won't do it again,” Anabel assured him. 

“I know you won't, now let's go home," Papa said, taking their hands.

"Do you know how I found these girls?" Papa asked Mama. 

"Dear me, how?" Mama was quite startled by the earning's events.

"I heard them singing, ‘I got a God who loves me,’" he told her. 

"I stitched those exact words on Charlet’s bonnet strap,” Mama said. 

"It must have reminded us even though we didn't know," Anabel said.

"This sure is one special bonnet,” Charlet agreed. 

“Not as special as God's love," Mama reminded them.

"They're here?!!!!” Trixie was out the door in an instant. 

"Trixie!!!" Colista jumped out of the car and scooped her sister up in a big bear hug. “I've missed you so much!" she said. 

"Not as much as I've missed you!" Trixie countered. 

"Fine,” Colista said, pretending to be upset, “We're even-- in height too, you must have grown 3 inches since I left.” 

Trixie tried to stand a little taller. "I am almost 12,” she said. “Isn't that old enough to go with you on your next mission?” 

Colista laughed. “We'll have to talk to Mom and Dad about that." 

Trixie sighed. "I already did, they said no." 

"Well maybe I can..." Colista started. 

"He-e-e-l-l-o-w, "Mike interrupted, "What about me?" 

"Oh, right,” Trixie said, pretending she forgot. Just then their parents burst out the door. 

"My babies!" their Mom said while hugging Colista. 

"Hey there son!” their Dad said. Everybody was all smiles having a wonderful reunion.

That night after dinner they were all sitting on the couch talking about what happened while Colista and Mike were away. “I had my birthday party last Saturday," Trixie said, “I wanted to wait for you guys but Dad said we can go to Porky’s for my birthday dinner tomorrow.” 

Mike jumped up. "That reminds me," he said, “We should probably wait ‘til tomorrow but I can't wait to give you your gift.” 

Colista handed her an envelope. Trixie eagerly tore it open and read the inside of the card, it said: Dear Trix, Happy Birthday!! Boy do we have a surprise for you. You're going to spend a month in Antarctica with us! Chill out, Mom and Dad said it's OK. We'll work out the details later, for now, start packing! With love Colista and Mike." As she read, a broad smile spread across Trixie's face.

Colista smiled as the plane landed and Trixie clutched her hand so hard her knuckles were white. Colista remembered her first day in Africa. She had been just as excited as Trixie is now. "Are you ok?" she asked. Trixie wiggled in her seat. "Ye-e-es!' she said.

"So this is where we're staying,” Colista said, a little disgusted. 

"Guess so,” Mike said, tossing his suitcase on one of the beds.

"Looks cozy," Trixie said, choosing the bottom bunk. It certainly was cozy, it was a small one room cabin with a fireplace at each end. There was a set of bunk beds on one side of the far fireplace and a third bed on the other side.

The next day they were getting ready to explore outside the cabin. “Trixie, did you pack your camera?" Mike asked. 

"Yea, I'll bring it," she said, "Why are you bringing cans of beans?" 

Colista answered for Mike. "Because your brother is scared of starving in just half an hour.” "Nu-u-u," Mike said. "You never know what could happen, we could get lost out there and starve to death.” 

Trixie looked scared. "So is it safe to go out?" she asked.

“Sure," Mike said, “It's just better to be safe than sorry."

“I'm freezing, can we go back now?" Colista asked. 

"I didn't want to complain but I'm pretty cold too," Mike said. 

"Just a little longer,” Trixie begged. “I don't get to have adventures every day like you do.” 

Mike looked up at the sky. "Ok but not too long," he said, “It's starting to snow." 

"Hurray!" Trixie began running, "Let's make a snowman and snow angels!" 

Colista and Mike looked at each other and shrugged then joined Trixie.

"Ok, we should really head back now,” Mike said. 

"Fine!" Trixie said, "Let's go." 

Colista looked around. "Go where?" she asked. 

"Back to the cabin of course," Mike said. 

"No, I mean which way is the cabin?" Colista asked. 

"It's that way,” Trixie and Mark said at the same time. They were pointing opposite directions. “Don't panic,” Colista ordered. 

"How do I not panic?" Trixie asked, “We're going to die out here!" 

"We are not going to die,” Mike said, "Although we would have a higher chance of living if you hadn't insisted that we stay and build a snowman."

Trixie gasped, "I just wanted to have an adventure!” 

"Well here you go!" Mike said, "Thanks to you we can spend our last days having one!" 

"I thought you said we wouldn't die!" Trixie retorted.

"Well…” Mike started, but before he could finish Trixie interrupted.

“And don't blame it all on me, Colista was supposed to keep track of where we are." 

Before Mike could answer, Colista spoke up, “Stop fighting,” she said, “It's getting late and we'll only survive out here if we work together." 

"How are we going to keep warm?” Trixie asked.

“We use our resources," Mike said.

“The only resource out here is snow and rocks,” Trixie said looking around. 

"I got it,'' Colista said, "We can build an igloo like the Indians did." 

"That could work,” Mike said, "And I brought some sticks to start a fire." 

Trixie stared at him. "How will we start it, or keep it burning?" 

Colista pated her pocket. "I have matches," she said. 

"The wood is pretty wet,” Mike said. “It should last the night, all we need is something to light that can spread to it." 

"I brought my sketchbook," Trixie said.

An hour later Colista, Mike, and Trixie were sitting in a small igloo around a fire, roasting beans on a flat rock. "How are we going to get home?'' Trixie asked. 

Colista put an arm around her. “We don't know yet,'' she said, “But God does, and He will protect us and lead us home if he wants us there.”

"What if He doesn't want us there?" Trixie asked.

"God wants us were He wants us," Mike said, "The Bible says 'God will work out all things for the good of those who love Him.’"

“And we love Him," Colista added, "All we can do now is pray." So they did. They prayed for God's will to be done and for Him to lead them home safely.

The next morning when Trixie woke up she felt like a magnet was pulling her east. So as soon as they were done eating breakfast they set off that way. About an hour later when they were about to turn back Colista saw something. "Didn't we walk along a lake for a while yesterday?" she asked.

“You're right," Mike said, "We walked Southwest from the cabin and then started following the lake." 

"How do we know where to branch off?" Colista asked. 

"I got it!" exclaimed Trixie, who had been looking at pictures on her camera. 

“Got what?" Colista and Mike asked at the same time. 

"The route, we branched off at this big boulder, see,” Trixie showed them the picture on her camera. So they followed the lake until they got to a big boulder then they went Northeast. When they saw the little cabin they all broke into a run shouting, "He saved us! God wanted us to get home!"