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.

     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.

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.

     "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.

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.

Each character is so real,

It's like they're all my friends.

Swirls of color make someone's dreams

And I can't tear my eyes from the canvas.

The sheer beauty 

Takes my breath away.

Life is amazing

And incredibly inspiring.

I feel buoyant and beautiful

Taking it all in. 

I itch to be in action;

My fingers vibrate for the nearest pencil.

Ideas are being stirred.

I can feel it fizzing up inside of me. 

The yearning is too much 

When I see the world outside.

Every frosted branch,

All of the clear water,

It calls me.

I pour out all of my feelings.

With the brushes on my desk.

Intense inspiration flows from my fingertips

And a smile is always on my lips.

I dream and I create.

Maybe someday

I’ll inspire someone else

And the cycle will keep on rolling

And coloring the world. 

They deck every haul

Every wreath they hang

They're having a jolly ball 

As holiday songs are sang

Their lights are twinkling

Before every eye

The warm glow sets us dreaming

Deep into the night sky

Not wrapping it, either.

It is about Christ, whose praise I lift! 

Though the tree with its lights 

Will be taken down

Once Christmas is over,

The best gift remains year-round. 

That gift is Jesus, 

The Son of God.

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.

"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!"