NO GREATER JOY: Arrows Crafted in Truth

The other day, I had an interesting conversation with another homeschooling mom.  We were discussing career paths and college admissions.  We shared our reservations about pursuing some less-guaranteed areas of study.  She has one child and I have five.  One of mine is already in college.

She said, “Well, at least you have five chances, I only have one.”

Did you ever wish you hadn’t intercepted a conversation because you missed where it was going? My interception was, “Chances?, it’s not like I have an option to allow three or four of my chances to be near-misses.”  I only wish I had asked her to further explain what she was thinking……it has been gnawing at me ever since.

3 John 2-4 says, “Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers.  For I rejoiced greatly when brethren came and testified of the truth that is in you, just as you walk in the truth.  I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.”

When we read the well-known passage in Psalm 127:3-5, there are a couple very familiar verses that are often quoted with regards to children:

“Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb is a reward.  Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth.  Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them…..”

Clearly, we draw from this passage that children are given as a blessing, a reward, in fact. With the word, “heritage”, we understand that the blessing will pass on to further generations and connect the parents’ lives to the further successes our children enjoy.  

Many look not only to the accomplishments of Charles and John Wesley, but to their amazing mother, Susanna, who spent separate hours with each of her many children, imparting the Word of Truth and intensive teaching.  She had a great “heritage”, and her arrows were well-directed.

I think my friend’s funny “chances” concept may reveal that we may somehow think we are given each child to prove our homeschooling “muscle”.  Many of us may be tempted to benchmark that we are going to hit the “target”.  However, the challenge with homeschooling is that there are years when we are hidden in the butterfly’s chrysalis, the quiet, hidden place where the most important work is happening, the time when no one can judge whether the butterfly will emerge with the anticipated form or not.

The “arrows” verse tempts us to consider whether some arrows hit the target, and others disappoint.  Surely, our Lord has no intention for us to live in the fear of misdirected arrows. He intends diversity in their destinations, for the sake of His immense purpose.  There is not only one red target in heavenly warfare; but there IS one common design for a spiritual arrow.

We desire for our children to have doors of opportunity opened to them by way of their education.  If, as may be the case with some, their souls don’t prosper to the degree we hope, we would want them to have the opportunity to prosper as adults until His kindness shepherds them to a place of personal discipleship.

A good honest question for parents today is: Which things cause “no greater joy” in our hearts? Academic achievement?  Shielding them from difficulty? Prosperity? Health and safety? Spiritual well-being?

When the day comes for us to pull back on our “arrows” and release them, have we been careful to assure that the truth is in them?   As the passage in 3 John says, we, as parents, pray for our children to “prosper in all things and be in good health AS their souls prosper”.  Our arrows need to be crafted with truth.  Let us take heart and remember that there is NO GREATER JOY for us than that our children “walk in truth”.

Pack Light!

Our fourteen checked bags, seven carry-ons, and the backpacks on our shoulders seemed a bit much for a late summer vacation.  However, when you realize this was all we were taking with us to our new life in Puerto Rico, you will agree that the seven of us packed lightly.

As with anything new and especially different, I remained rather objective those first couple weeks in Puerto Rico.  I was only mildly annoyed every morning when my neighbor's chickens would fly over the fence, station themselves right below my bedroom window and crow. Quickly, I took finding creatures of every sort in-stride. Creatures ranging from fire-ants to lizards to tarantulas could be found anywhere and everywhere, including in the shower.

Upon acquaintance, beautiful Puerto Rico was charming enough to endear any objective mind.  Mine, however, was only temporarily clouded by objectivity.  In my determination to dislike Puerto Rico, every less-than-ideal characteristic became a charge that justified my case.

I had over-packed.  I had stowed away all sorts of burdensome articles: my pride, misconceptions, prejudice, unreasonable expectations, and close-mindedness.  They were in my pockets, in the soles of my shoes, and in my heart. Even TSA did not pick-up on these forbidden pests, and I bore their weight into Puerto Rico, and all the way through those first years.

This miserable existence needed to end; it was time to give Puerto Rico a chance.  Slowly but surely, I opened the blinds on my heart, to see things in a new light.  No, I did not dismiss the faults of Puerto Rico.  I still heard when a total stranger would scold me, saying, “You live in Puerto Rico, so you need to speak Spanish!”  I was still affronted by countless stories of government corruption and my firsthand experiences with a broken healthcare system.  I considered it a crime against humanity that, in this infernally hot place, the starting price for ice cream was eight dollars per half gallon.  

The difference came when I began to acknowledge the strengths of Puerto Rico.  For every rude stranger I met, there were others who went out of their way to befriend me.  While I do not prefer being assaulted with kisses by everyone I meet, I have grown to appreciate Puerto Rico’s courteous yet outgoing cultural practices.  Even its unpardonable failings I now consider eye-openers to what it is to be from a very different cultural setting.   I empathize with an immigrant who comes to the U.S. unable to speak English, receives insensitive remarks and feels the same loneliness.

Six years later, I am still disposing of my excess luggage.  In its place are some lighter substitutes: good memories, funny stories, a newfound love for Puerto Rico, and plenty of sand.  For whatever journeys of the heart that lay in the future, I have learned one thing: to “pack light,” and leave room for souvenirs, memories and priceless lessons gained on my adventures.

Homeschooling to the Last Stretch--College!

We were blessed to have our first daughter receive notice that she has been offered admission to Williams College in Massachusetts via Early Decision. Williams is a highly selective “Little Ivy”, and recently ranked #1 among Liberal Arts colleges by U.S. News and World Report.

Our homeschooling journey began when Abi was ready for Pre-K/Kindergarten and our third daughter was on the way. We were living on a tight, one-income budget in Baltimore City. We undoubtedly wanted to avoid sending the kids to public school, and the private Christian schools would have been too expensive if I hoped to stay home with the younger kids. We were also attracted to homeschooling because it was “portable”, and could be brought to the missionfield. Since that first year, our family increased to five children, and we relocated to Puerto Rico 6-years-ago as church-planting missionaries.

For me, homeschooling has been an amazing faith-journey. I actually miss the yearly check-in/evaluations that we had in the states because I felt assured by the other set of eyes to encourage us. I struggle with wondering if we’re doing enough, just as all homeschooling parents do. We focused on extensive reading and rigorous writing via programs like Sonlight and IEW. Our other favorite curriculum choices include: Apologia science, Math-U-See, All-American History, and Notgrass. Abi read most of the books in our sizable library.

She spent a semester in a private, Christian school when she was in junior high. A generous family offered to sponsor her, sensing that it would be “best”. I didn’t feel anything was broken about our homeschooling at the time, but thought it would boost her Spanish and give her some more friends. The experience was a mixed one and I would recommend the school without reservation. But when she confided that she thought the way we studied history and science was more interesting, I became concerned. I also noticed that she came home with so much memorizing/homework, that we would probably no longer find as much time for extra-curriculars, no less, leisurely reading. She did, however, receive straight A’s, and that was reassuring. In the end, we decided to bring her back home, and the Lord did an awesome settling work with me as I trusted Him for the finishing stretch.

Our four oldest are very blessed to be given the opportunity to participate in a government-sponsored, after school, music institute. I will admit that I think activities like this were very important to having sufficient extra-curriculars and recommendations. Abi also worked at a library through a youth employment program for a short time and volunteers at a library now. We were unable to take dual-enrollment courses as many homeschoolers do, but we added an online literature course in the junior year and two online AP courses this year. In hindsight, these should have been taken earlier. She was limited in her recommendations for scholarships and applications, both due to extra-curricular/music teachers who only spoke Spanish, and few other “academic” recommendations. The online courses were our best provisions and it would have proven even more helpful to have taken more in the junior year instead.

The PSAT was a springboard from which to shoot high. Her scores were high enough for her to begin receiving materials from very selective schools. As a low-income family (missionaries), a program called QuestBridge has been very encouraging. QuestBridge targets students with high PSAT and/or SAT scores, and has an extensive application for two stages of scholarships. This process included transcripts, essays and recommendations. Receiving this honor was an important catalyst, and their student forums and materials kept us well-informed of many opportunities. She applied for “fly-ins”-- college-sponsored, all expenses paid visits to campus and was awarded one to Dartmouth and another at Trinity in Hartford. She was disappointed when she didn’t receive the Williams fly-in grant, but they extended the Early Decision to her upon further review of her application, which led to her admission. We came to learn that more than 40% of Williams’ incoming freshman class were accepted through the Early Decision program. Therefore, being decisive about your first choice school can really give you a cutting-edge.

We allowed her the freedom to truly concentrate on standardized test preparation during the end of the Junior year, as well as early this year. She increased her SAT scores by more than 10% between the spring and the fall. She also took three SAT subject tests and had one high score, one “average” score, and one not-so-amazing score.

Our children began submitting entries for the VFW Voice of Freedom and Patriot’s Pen scholarships about 4 years ago. Abi was given first place for the Latin American Division last year. Not only did she receive a scholarship, but VFW sponsored her for two enriching trips and provided her with friends from every state and territory in the U.S..   Homeschoolers are well represented in these competitions. Additionally, she participated in the local American Legion competition last year (lots of work!). I reflected these on her transcript as both Speech and Constitutional Law.

Essays were probably the strongest part of her applications for QuestBridge and Williams. The years put into emphasizing reflective, well-crafted writing were well worth the effort. Within the QuestBridge forum group, she was given a “coach” from an Ivy League school, as well as an opportunity for peer review of her essays. These were very helpful. Her writing has developed beyond her mother’s expertise (along with many academic areas. ie., Calculus, Chemistry, Economics!!), so a network like this helped immensely. I would add that I feel exegetical Bible study and reflection, as demonstrated by her father, a missionary/pastor, has developed an analytical, reflective thinker, and no other “curriculum” could have done as well as Christian apologetics seen through real life experience.

Allowing our Christian daughter to attend a “liberal”, secular college can be controversial. She made her decision to attend Williams very carefully. Among some of the strong factors were her proximity to family, and a sister-church with a pastor who is a long-time friend. We also came to understand that financial aid is perhaps more comprehensive at selective schools. Many are discouraged by the overall “price”, but Williams is one of the schools that promises to meet 100% of financial need. Her proposed financial aid package includes no loans.

During the process, Abi completed six live or Skype interviews with school alumnae. One recurring question was: How do you think you will adjust to the social life on campus after homeschooling? We chuckled about this, concluding that the interviewer felt this showed they had done research on the “issues” with homeschoolers. She felt she was successful in making a case for her “fit” at liberal arts schools, due to her self-directed flexibility in homeschooling. Multiple times, after explaining our “tutorial” methods and independent coursework, the interviewers admitted that her education seemed to be a good fit for a liberal arts education.

I write about our experience to encourage homeschool parents and students. It is by faith that we trust God for the provision when a toddler is attempting to eat another crayon under our feet, while we are trying to teach the older child to read. By faith we choose the materials that work, as well as the ones that disappointed us a bit. I am in awe at how homeschooling has become a lifestyle where we love learning. As the “teacher”, I have learned more during these years than I did during my own school and college years. More than anything, we’ve learned to have the confidence to actively answer our own questions and seek answers--trusting Him with it all.

Remembering Their Service: An Interview with a Veteran

 

About the Interviewee: 

Idelfonso “Pancho” Colon Jr.  is the commander of the American Legion department of Puerto Rico.  He is a young veteran, only in his early fifties.  He was severely wounded while in combat in Iraq, and was honorably discharged.  He served for twenty-five years in the Marine Corps, and was First Sergeant at the time of his injury.  Today, he devotes most of his time to serving veterans here in Puerto Rico.  Below is a transcribed version of a phone interview from November 7, 2013.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Abigail:  What was your role within that capacity [as First Sergeant]?

Pancho : Really, I’m kinda brain-washed.  Haha.  I was part of Mission Accomplishment, you know, taking care of the people under me, and trying to get them home.

A: Why did you decide to join the Marines?

P: Oh, well it’s a two part thing. 1) The patriotism I had growing up, and I had a lot of family members in the military, and they were an example to me, and I followed their footsteps.  And 2) everyone talks about how hard it is to be in the Marines, so I thought I’d take on that challenge.

Everyone chooses to join for different reasons… One of my company commanders… he was a Harvard grad, and I used to say “what the heck are you doing here?” because he could pretty much write his own checks [with a civilian job].  But he would tell me, “I’m here because this is what I want to do-- serve my country.”  And I was like, wow, we’re talking about a man who could pretty much pick out what he wants to do in life, and… he was serving his country for peanuts.

A:  You know young people like me are looking to go pretty far in life, and sometimes we can be, even with the best intentions, selfish in those desires.  But no matter what, it’s important to find a way to give back.  And maybe that’s not what he did, but some way to give back.

P: Exactly… By the way, today is my ninth “Alive Day.” Today is the day I was wounded in Iraq, exactly nine years ago. 

A: So this is a day you kinda commemorate each year?

P: Not really commemorate, but it’s hard to forget, but you know, wounded soldiers, they always call the day [that they were wounded] their “Alive Day.”

A: Was there one time, for you as someone serving in the Marines, when you suddenly realized the gravity of your role in the armed forces?

P: Oh yes, yes.  I can give you an example.  It’s a little horrific, but it’s a great example for your question.  You know, nobody really wants to go to war but it’s one of those necessary evils I guess.  When we were in Talusha, we entered this torture chamber, and just to see that kinda vindicated the reason I was there.  I had my doubts, but when I saw these places with knee hooks and blood on the cement floors, I knew we were doing the right thing.  It was a pivotal moment… I was questioning my will to follow orders, but when you actually see the reality, these places where there are mass graves, where recently, they were still torturing people, and you liberate people from that, and it’s like “wow.”

One of the companies that I was first sergeant in was the one that liberated the POWs (Prisoners of War) at the beginning of the war—the two pilots, the woman-- they were a part of that group.  When you actually see something like that, it puts it back in perspective-- that what I’m doing here is really worthwhile. 

Not only that, but the schools that we built while we were there, the infrastructure that we helped build.  We brought water to places that never had water, never had electricity.  Even though we destroyed stuff, we actually did some humanitarian, “good” things too.

A:  Right.  It’s interesting to hear that perspective because there’s been a bit of a backlash about U.S. intervention, going into other places, but I watched this really interesting documentary recently called “The World Without US.”  This British professor did a study, and he concluded that if the United States stopped being the world’s, if you want to call it, “police,” we’d have a very different place. 

Sometimes the armed forces get a backlash for taking on things that aren’t directly related to defending the country, but who’s going to do it if we don’t?  There hasn’t been another country that’s stepped up to it. 

P:  That’s a great point, because in the two world wars that were involved in, our foreign policy was isolationism. We wanted to stay out of everyone’s business, but we answered in World War I, and we entered again in World War II.  Both times, we didn’t really want to be there, but it happened. 

You’re gonna hear it all the time. “Ah, we can’t be the world’s police.”—we didn’t ask for that job, you know.  It’s just the way things turned out.  And really, when we turn a blind eye, we’re just as responsible as the people who committed those atrocities.  I believe, granted, our country has done a lot of bad things, but I believe the good intentions were there.  It’s just how some of those things worked out.

A:  Going back to your experiences, was there something particularly that made you question yourself, what you were doing, something that you saw that made you ask “why am I here?”

P:  Yeah (the anniversary of that happening is in two days) [it] is when I lost my first Marine in combat.  As a leader, it’s kinda unrealistic, but it’s there: your goal is to bring everyone back [with] you.  But the very definition of war is that you’re gonna lose someone. 

So anyways, I kinda took that hard [losing the Marine]. You want to come home with everyone you left with.  When you look at reality, you realize that’s impossible, but still, you blame yourself.   “What could I have done differently?  If we had left five minutes later [would he have made it]?”  You start questioning yourself, but at the end of it all, you realize this is war, and this is what happens.  That  took a long time for me. 

Especially since he was only 19 years old, and I’d already lived a full life, and he was just in the prime of his. 

A: Nineteen years old.  Some of us [civilian] nineteen year olds (I’m not too far from that age), [are] not that responsible.  We’re just going to college or getting our first jobs.  But someone out there is defending our country…

This doesn’t even really have to be related to combat, but what was one of your best memories as a part of the armed forces? 

P:  The camaraderie.  The togetherness.  You live in a structured environment, and not many people question authority, but there is a bond.  Even though we come from all walks of life, it brings us all together, because that’s what our country is.  It’s something that my wife [she’s a veteran as well] says is the “most perfect, imperfect society that there is, yet it works.”  We’re dysfunctional, but it works.  It worked for us

. 

A:  Do have one more story [that you want to share]?

P: I do.  There’s an old saying, like World War I or World War II, and they used to say “there are no atheists in foxholes.”  And let me tell you, that is true…

When I was evacuated for my medical evacuation, the first person who carried my stretcher was in the Airforce, but remember, I was in the Marines.  Still, he looked down and called me by name.  “Colon!” 

He was one of my recruits ten years prior, not of the Marine Corps, but he joined the Air Guard, and he was in Iraq, carrying my stretcher onto a plane and taking me to Germany. 

A second person was put in my [path] and that was a Marine next to me who was about 18-19 years old, and he had been badly wounded, and he had all kinds of hoses connected to him.  He was conscious and he was crying, and I put my hand on his shoulder and said “hey, look, we’re gonna be okay.”  Through that conversation with him, I found out that my son had trained him [in the military]. 

I don’t think God deals in coincidences. 

The plane landed in Germany, and the door opens, and I hear someone say “is Colon onboard?”  The air nurse said yes, and he comes over to me, and he shakes me by the shoulders, and says “Son, it’s me, Luis Serrano.”  Five years prior, he had been one of my trainers, but Luis Serrano had gotten out of the Marine Corps, and joined the Army Reserve to be a medic.  Here he was, taking care of me. 

Anyways, I get retired, I get sent to Puerto Rico.  All returning veterans have to go see a counselor, and they assigned one to me.  So [my counselor], she looks at my records, and says  “Hhmm, are you from New York? You’re from the Bronx?” 

I said “yah.”

“And your mother’s name is Judy, and your father’s name is Ildey.” 

“What?!”

“Yah, I used to go to your dad’s store [in the Bronx] when I was eleven years old.” 

I didn’t remember her, but this woman knew me, my family…

Going back to what I said, “there are no atheists in a foxhole,” God put an angel in every step of that journey to bring me back home.  Spiritually, I think that’s the best thing that happened to me on the way back.  And it’s also sign of the camaraderie…  If anything, I know God put those people there for me so I could make it home okay.  And that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Interviewer’s Note: 

I have known Pancho for a number of years through various youth programs with the American Legion.  Both he and his wife are incredibly inspiring individuals, and it was a great honor to interview him.  His story is rather unique, since we usually characterize veterans as old, wizened gentlemen with their stories of the triumphs and horrors of the armed forces half a century ago.  For Pancho, he was on the war-front during this recent, and arguably controversial, War in Iraq.  His insight on the motivations behind this war and the actions of the armed forces is rather interesting as it differs from many civilian opinions. 

Secondly, we often don’t realize what a profound effect active combat can have on a person’s life, even years later.  I remember attending a birthday party and noticing him standing at a distance from the crowd, at the front of the room.  I jokingly asked him if he was on sentry duty.  He told me that ever since he was injured in combat, he can’t handle being in the crowd; he feels claustrophobic and trapped because it reminds him of when he was stuck in a mangled tank while in Iraq. 

 

Hopefully, as civilians learn the stories of our veterans and active soldiers, we can learn to thank them, not just for what they did on the front lines, but also for what they continue to endure on the home-front for the rest of their lives.    

Hope for Otters- by Anali

Otters are smart, playful animals, but they are fighting for survival. The giant otter is one of the mammals that wasn’t even given and chance to be known in the world and is now the most rare otter. We say we need animals, but no one says they need us. We are the reason many of them are gone.

In the past we’ve seen animals vanish so suddenly it seems they never where there. Because we have power over animals no matter how big they are, or how excellent at hiding they are, it it’s our will, animals could be wiped out. Some are almost there, but if people were to just see their beauty in being in the wild, maybe they would have a better chance. Otters are one of the animals that are on the edge of extinction. They were the ones who were hunted because of their fur. Mercilessly, sea otters were slaughtered, but that was not enough. There was a great oil spill, and many otters were killed by thousands. Where these funny, furry sea otters done for? Slowing the trade down made people start to realize the truth about sea otters. People went on trips to learn all about sea otters. Now they are on a comeback. Those flipper-feeted, blubber-less sea otters are giving hope back. So stop staring and start saving all otters everywhere.

Within the rushing water swims a giant dog with webbed feet and a rudder-like tail. It is not a dog, but a giant otter, swimming happily in the South American rivers. Giant otters are the most rare otters known today. Also killed for their fur, which decreased their numbers frantically, they are curious and shy animals that have a taste for fish, and their most favorite one is the patak. The most dazzling and amazing animals are the ones who get pushed to the limit carelessly—animals who care about life as much as we do. Why?

Are these water-loving, playful otters really done for? Without care they could be. Hoping is not enough, acting is the only way; so why say goodbye to them when we can stop it? As fast as we’ve seen animals vanish, we’ve also seen them return. It is not impossible.

The Christmas Attack- by Julian, age 7

Once, years ago, there were Vikings and the people of England had to keep on giving them gold for them to stay away. The English wanted to stop giving them gold.

It was Christmas day, and the English didn't fight in the winter, especially not when it was Christmas, but the Vikings came on Christmas day and attacked!

The English king, Alfred, had to flee! He worked in a lady's house like a servant, but she didn't know who he was. She told him to watch the cakes on the fire while she went to get firewood. He was concentrating on what he would do about the Vikings so much that the cakes burned!

He decided to send messages to all his warriors to plant their crops and then come to headquarters.

So then, they attacked the Vikings and the Vikings were surprised! The Vikings surrendered and then the English won!

THE END.

Let’s Go See - by Avrynn, age 8

Along the hills near Bethlehem, lived a shepherd’s family.

Hannah was an eight-year-old daughter.

Hannah calmly helped her dad, because mom had a baby.




Hannah enjoyed counting the sheep to make sure that they were all there. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven and on and on.



Tenderly, she held the tiniest sheep of all, because she cared about her.

Every night she watched the lights go out in Bethlehem.

Suddenly, a bright light appeared!

Hannah could tell that her brave dad was scared.

The angel said, “Don’t be afraid, for the Lord Jesus Christ is born this night, in the land of Bethlehem.”

Hannah thought "I actually saw an angel!”

“Let’s go see!” Hannah brought her baby sheep. Delightfully, they walked to town, then they saw the manger. As they walked closer, they saw the baby’s bed. It wasn’t a bed, it was a feeding-trough. Hannah, the 8-year-old learned a lesson: Christmas is about Christ.

No Home is Like Our Own - by Anali, age 10

In a dirty, damp hollow tree, three flirtirans sat clumsily waiting for spring to come suddenly to brighten those cold, dark winter days. Violently, Willy-woo stomped down the stairs and crouched near the fireplace. It happened so quickly that it startled the other two firtirans so that they jumped in fright. All that racket made the old, hollow tree go "Creak! Crack!" and it split right down the middle. What a sad sight to see three young flirtirans homeless all throughout that cold winter night. When morning came, it was not dark or scary like they had thought it would be. It was white and gray, with rabbits hopping around, leaving their pawprints behind.
"Oh, so this is what winter looks like," muttered Pippy-doo, the second flirtiran, with and awe-struck face.

A little rabbit hopped up to them and asked, "Who are you?"

"We are lost, homeless flirtirans, looking for a home," answered the oldest flirtiran named Doodle-Doodle-roo!

"So, if you know of the nearest hollow tree, will you be so kind as to tell us where it would be?" requested Willy-woo.

So the little rabbit told them to come to his house where all his family lived. It was a den that was lit by a large fireplace, it was so warm htat it melted all of the cold winter snow away from the den. It was a quaint little home, but the hollow tree was all the flirtirans had ever known, so when they saw that nice little place the rabbits called home, they stared in awe because it was not like their own. The little rabbit showed the three flirtirans to his Pa, who knew of each hollow tree nearby. They told him why they were there, and their response was quite a scare.

"Not one in the forest, not one anywhere, except for the one haunted by the old rabid hare," answered the odd Papa rabbit.

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Mama rabbit made soup and the flirtirans had a feast which was bigger than what they had in a week.

They ate, slept and when morning came, they were in for the long day ahead of them. They said their goodbyes and headed to the old haunted hollow tree. But when they were out of sight of the little rabbits' home, a storm blew up and darkened their way with gloom. Then they saw a hole with a sign that read, "Mr. Mole's Hole."

They knocked on the door and stared at the floor and wondered what was a mole, then the door flung open and their wondering and hoping was no more, for there in front of them was a dirty, ugly mole.

Looking around, the mole finally found three flirtirans there on the ground and grumbled, "Oh, ok, I'm awake, so what is so important that you wake me out of hibernating?"

"Oh, please, Mr. Mole, it's so very cold and there is a storm coming to smite our poor little souls, so, if you would be so kind let us stay only until the storm goes away," pleaded Peppy-doo.

Mr. Mole nodded to them to come in and he led them to a room with a bed and brought them a piece of bread on a red, lead plate. So they ate, hogging it all. The storm felt like it would never end and it got so desperately boring that it made Willy-woo, who was no good at entertaining himself, ask the mole when he was born.

"Now what made you think such a thing?" insisted the old mole.

Soon the storm stopped, so they set of on the trail to the golden hawk's house, who would fly them to the haunted hollow tree.

When they got there, he was not a mole who lived in a hole who thought that he was young, but was very old, nor was he a strange little rabbit with too long ears, but a hawk that eats mice whole!

The hawk was perched on a tree that swung with the breeze. It had no leaves like all the other trees, but it looked mostly dead, but still the hawk even liked scene even if it was truly dead altogether. He flew down, and it frightened them. He was very tall and it made them feel small, like they were laid down near the ground. They knew that he would not eat them, due to the fact athat they had too much fur, but one could not wonder what was behind those bright, yellow eyes. It made you despise looking at him at all.

"So," said the howk in a deep, evil voice, "What brings you to these cold, dark parts were only screetch owls, wolves and hawks as bold as monarchs embark?" said the hawk. Although it was cold, that was not what made the poor little flirtirans shiver or make their teeth chatter. It was the story they had heard that when one goes in, they never come back.

The hawk agreed to fly them to the haunted outback. They hopped on his back and they flew over swamps overflowing with bats, huge yellow cats, and screetch owls, catching mice and rats. Finally, he landed in a long, narrow stretch that once was a flower patch.

"This is as far as I will go. Just follow this path and you'll get where you're goig, said the scary hawk in the deep hollow voice. They walked down the path, then they stopped and looked up and saw a hollow oak tree.

There was no rabid hare, no wolves or bears, in fact, there was nothering there except some bushes that would have berries in the spring. They rushed inside and were amazed to see it was just like their old hollow tree, but bettter, for it was new.

You see, a little change is not that bad because what had happened did not make them sad. It made them glad because they had a new, hollow tree to call "home".

REASON for the SEASON-Coming Closer to Him - Aliia, age 13

Ashley Longwarth had always known that her parents didn’t have a lot of money, but this year, as the season of Christmas was coming near, she knew it was going to be the leanest Christmas she’d ever experienced. Her dad had lost his job and her mom had to stay home with young, one-year old and somewhat sickly Lila. Ashley was trying her best to deal with it and keep on with the spirit of the season as if nothing had changed. But she knew everything was different and she couldn’t hide from this huge obstacle.

Ashley had been thinking about this the entire time she had been holiday shopping with her sister, Samey. They’d rushed in and out of stores with hardly a word, wearing weary, concerned faces. Samey had glanced over at Ashley. She stopped right next to the same store they’d just left and determinedly put her foot down.

“OK, what is it?”

Ashley turned around, caught off-guard. “What?” she put her hands up on her hips.

“Like, you’re usually always talking to me and having a great time…we float around some stores window-shopping, get some hot coca and then relax…but look at you now! You’re puffing and huffing about like a mother hen about to explode and attack somebody!” Samey sighed and sat down on a bench nearby. “What’s up? What’s on your mind?” she said, exasperated.

Ashley glanced around and just stood there, looking at her 17-year old sister who sat on the bench, prodding her on with her eyes. Giving in, she collapsed on the bench by her sister.

“Just look at this place!” For a moment they sat watching the expectant people bustling by.

“What do you see?” continued Ashley.

“People,” said Samey. “Lots and lots of people.” She grinned sheepishly.

“No,” replied Ashley, shrugging. “I mean, like, Santa Clause, the reindeer, the lights and trees, employees imitating elves in their dress… the many thousand people who rush through the mall buying and buying, trying to satisfy their fill for a “perfect Christmas…” she sighed, putting her head on Samey’s shoulder. “What’s the real reason for Christmas? Presents? Santa Clause? Trying to impress people with “glorious” decorations? Is this what it’s all about?’

When they got home, both of the teenagers were worn out and soon had covered themselves up in their plush, warm blankets and dozed off. Their family, a bit confused by the rush, soon followed. Alex and Xavier, the twins, toddled off to their room and then mom and dad to theirs with sleeping Lila in their arms.

*****************************************************************************************************************

The next day was Saturday. Ashley lay awake, profoundly pondering on things in her own world, lying in her bottom bunk she shared with Samey.

“I just can’t believe it! Samey couldn’t answer my question yesterday! Shouldn’t everybody know what Christmas is all about anymore? I mean, if it’s all about Jesus, why is it so changed? Is it about giving or getting? This year has been so hard…It’s like, if there is a real God, why isn’t everything easier? I guess that’s the purpose of it all, huh? Getting what you really needed during the year? She turned her head to her pillow, blocking out the light that came from the window near her.

“Or getting the things God didn’t give you…is that it?” she thought aloud. “Has God forgotten us? Or have we forgotten him by not going to church?’’ she put her face in her pillow and cried. “Are you there, God? Do you actually hear me like you used to, 4 years ago?” She just couldn’t organize that huge inventory of thoughts that surged through her. Where was God?
*****************************************************************************************************************

Usually, on Sundays, Ashley’s family stayed home because, supposedly, they no longer felt the conviction to go to church. But this Sunday was different. Grandma and Grandpa were coming to visit for the weekend.

When they arrived, everybody was helping pull off coats and get them into the cozy house when Grandma stopped everything.

“Wait, children, wait…who wants to come to church with me?” Grandma smiled and turned to us, her serene but calm face glowing.
“Mother,” said my mom, turning to Grandma, “You know we had stopped going, didn’t you?” she fingered the coat she had just put on the coatrack thoughtfully, obviously warring with her thoughts.

Grandma shrugged, at a loss. “But why, darling, haven’t you gone? Don’t you think you still need the words of the Lord?” Grandma’s tone hinted that she was gesturing to Mom’s behavior towards religious things.

Mom looked at Grandma in disgust. “Mama, we’ve talked about this before. I’m not going.” Now mom’s voice showed evident anger. “Besides, the children wouldn’t be interested- would you, children?”

Some of us backed away, aware that mom wasn’t necessarily interested in traitors and we all knew she had had other plans for the day. Even so, Grandma and Mom both were surprised.

“Mom, I want to go,” said Ashley, turning to them, her curiosity soaring.

“Me, too,” Samey followed.

Grandma grinned. Mom grimaced, shrugging, murmured something about not wanting Grandma to fill our heads with old people’s religious things, and stormed away like a bear returning to hibernate in its den.
*****************************************************************************************************************
Ashley was perched impatiently on a wooden pew in an antique church. It reminded her of the porcelain collectable figurines going to their stately little porcelain church that sat gleefully posing in the Store window of “Grandpa Joe’s Old-fashion Collectables Store”. She chuckled inside at the thought.

Looking over to her right, she spotted Grandma in her flowery, ornery dress and straw hat, sitting with dignity next to the shrugging, wrinkled conservatory Grandpa who was continually nodding off. The twins sat on either side of them, making crashing sounds with their mouths and cars out of their hands, pretending to be in a collision, their two wavy brown heads together as if they were concentrating with great interest on something.

Ashley now gazed over at Mom and Samey. Mom was trying not to betray herself with her countenance, but her displeasure was evident, being the simple opposite of Samey. Samey sat eagerly enduring the pastor’s message and soaking every word in. Finally, Ashley began to use her eyes and ears to heed the words of the pastor.
*****************************************************************************************************************

“Cast your cares upon the Lord,” Pastor Rickley was saying, “For he cares for you! I mean everyone! Not just those who go to church of pray, or pay their tithes- those lowly of heart or stature in life, or just those who feel lost...”He looked at his crowd with compassion and love. Suddenly, the crowd saw the film of tears coming into his eyes.

“As a child growing up with a family that was filled with the Holy Spirit and a pastor as my dad, I had never really understood what made my family and their church so happy and made tears come into their eyes. I had seen this and marveled, wondering what motivated them and made them so dramatic. I had gone to Sunday-school, I had enjoyed the stories and activities, but deep, deep down I really wanted to know what drove people to love God so much, to go to dangerous countries to tell others about God, what made them unafraid to tell anyone about Him…it just puzzled me…and then, at about 12 or 13, I started feeling God reaching out into my life…he would show me things I had never seen before, make me understand appreciate things I never had before…it seemed I had all of a sudden become closer to God.” He now smiled, put his hand through his hand through his hair, and continued.

“And that, my dear friends, was the very year we went to Africa and gave up all our luxuries we had. We had plenty of money, food, clothing, good neighbors and friends, doctors, stores, cars, liberty…billions of things we, as people here in the US, take for granted…even our family we took for granted.” He sighed.

“That was the year my mother died of liver cancer along with other diseases building up on her while we were in Africa. It tore me apart. I was ruined, I had thought, and I wished I had died instead or gone along with her.”
****************************************************************************************************************

Stunned, Ashley opened her eyes wide and played with her hands. “Was this what happened to those who trusted in God so deeply?” she thought, looking nervously and anxiously at her mother. Someone who she deeply loved would die? Did she really want to be involved with this?

Even so, Pastor Rickley continued, despite her tremulous thoughts.

“My family, the 4 of us kids and my dad soon returned to the US, and to here, torn, broken-down, and wondering if God had actually called us there. But I believe the hardship made us become closer…both to God and to each other. The first Sunday we were back, we were ministered to with a breathtaking comeback…Ok, to make a big, long story short,” he hesitated, trying to find the words, “God showed us what we’d really been missing-faith! We had been worrying on how to get food, water, housing, clothing, money…just how to live-we ha needed to cast our cares upon God! He cares like none could care, he loves like none could love, he provides, blesses like none could do! Don’t you love that, my dear congregation?”

The crowd clapped and shouted “Amens”, “Halleluiahs”, and Grandma even put her hands up in the air like a servant, pleading for mercy or worshipping her king. Mom stood up, yanked her purse up along with her, and stormed angrily out of the room. Ashley hardly noticed, and, being perfectly fascinated, confused, but slightly amazed. She felt like Pastor Rickley had as a young child- curious, hungry to find what this was all about. Pastor Rickley took the microphone again into his hands.

“And then, about a month later, we returned to Africa to do what God had told us to do along with a strong weapon newly renewed and restored, ready for the many battles it would face during the next 7 years I would spend there-until I was 20- having gone to the growing but plentiful Bible-college my father had planted, helped build our new church building, and helped bring hundreds to God. I returned, planning only to go to college and return to the mission field… but there, again, I needed to trust God…I came home to Massachusetts, went to college, and I met the beautiful wife I have. Then God told me to “migrate” to Baltimore and plant this wonderful church…and all in all, I thank God for everything…especially the hardships, which have brought me closer to home base with him. Amen? So, incorporating the holiday season, cast all your cares on God for every detail, down to just decorating that Christmas tree with bows! Amen?” he grinned. “Let’s pray.”
*****************************************************************************************************************

“Bye, Dad! Get a job!” said Ashley with enthusiasm in her voice.

Throwing his scruffy dark green coat on and shoving his feet into his boots, Dad leaned down over 5-foot Ashley and kissed her on her forehead.

“Bye, honey, be good, ok?” he grabbed the door-nob and swung it open. Then he was gone in a swirl of snowflakes and wind. Going up on her tippy-toes, Ashley looked out the peek hole in the door.

“He’s gone,” she thought. “Now or never!” she raced down the hallway and paused near her parent’s room. The door was cracked open enough for her to steal a glance inside. Forgetting herself, Ashley peered in.

“Why is Mom always so correct?” said Mom, wrenching her hands and staring at the floor. “What does she have that makes her so persuading?” she put her hand through her hair, disturbed.

Ashley had seen this conversation between Mom and her mom’s conscience before. Ashley had always wondered what had gone so wrong between Mom and Grandma and what caused the constant tension whenever Christianity or anything religiously related was mentioned.

“I wonder if I’ll find out…”thought. “If mom saw me eavesdropping now…I’d be dead meat! Nope, looks like I won’t find out now… ” she rethought, now. Starting to back up, she saw her mother hurriedly pace towards the door. Just as her mother was about to open the door and Ashley was jumping out of the way, crash! She fell.
*****************************************************************************************************************

“Whoa, “she murmured aloud. “What is this place?” she felt like Alice in Wonderland.”

A familiar, friendly voice answered her, “This is my den.”

Ashley whirled around, still on the wooden floor.

“Oh, it’s you, Dad! Gosh, you creeped me out!”
*****************************************************************************************************************
Sitting in a comfy, plush seat by her dad he finally revealed to her what she’d been missing.

“Your Mother and Granny… had a fight- a huge fight- 4 years ago, when you were 9… your mom got so fed up about how correct your grandma has always been, and a bunch of rubbish. But finally your Grandma and Mom noticed what their biggest difference was.” He paused, putting his arm about her shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze.

He sighed. “Your mother never really believed the same things your Grandma did-in Jesus and all, and she was constantly thinking Grandma was against her. So that’s when your mom stopped going to church. She didn’t believe. And, uh that’s why I made this my study, den, thinking room, library…”he playfully whispered, now, into her ear. “My hideout!”

Ashley smirked, amused. “Dad,” she grinned more, scoffing in a playful way. “Your hideout? Come on! From what? Us, the crazy, scary monsters?’

“No,” he said, and his countenance suddenly dropped from the playful talk to serious talk. “Your mother doesn’t like going to anything that has to do with religion or such, nor, of course, in the house, so I make my church my home or I go to a men’s bible-study.” His voice dropped to a whisper again.

“I’m going to tell you a big secret…don’t tell anybody without letting me know, ok?” she nodded, eager to hear what was all locked up in her dad’s store of thoughts, adventures…anything.

“I really hate that we stopped going to church…I didn’t go to church Sunday because it pains me to see that your mother couldn’t love such an amazing person like God…I mean, I used to be like her until one day when going to an interview. Well… to make a long story short, God got hold of the scruff on my neck and directed me to a man he sent and just meeting that man changed my life.” He paused, his smile returning to his face. “So that’s what I sometimes do when I’m gone, Ash is go search after God with the guys in the bible- study.”

He picked up an old, tattered book and handed it to her.

“Here, read this,” he said, getting up and grabbing a bag nearby, “I got to go!” he ran to a door Ashley hadn’t noticed that stood stationed in the corner of the room.

“Bye!” Then Dad was gone to his bible study.

Ashley opened up the first page of the book. “The Holy Bible,” she read.
*****************************************************************************************************************
“Finally, she thought in immediate excitement. “The real truth…Jesus is the Light of the world? He came to give to us... he came to show the way so then we might receive from him…accept him... she gasped. “So there’s the reason…he came as a baby so he’d grow up and sacrifice his life!” She zoned into a into a world of awe.

“I wonder…” she went over to one of the various bookcases that stood against the wall in her father’s den. Searching through the books, looking for a book she had seen many times as a young child, she noted the many Christian books and booklets her father had collected. Oh, there it is, thought Ashley, pulling out a book about a little boy who brought his gift to Jesus. Paging through it, a revelation finally hit her.

“That’s it,” she gasped, her pending question beginning to unfold its mysterious answer. “People are forgetting, in all their Christmas shopping and festivities of the holiday, to put Jesus on their holiday gift-list! It’s supposed to be his birthday, isn’t it?” a new thought began to set in, too. “Imagine what it would be like to wake up to your birthday and everybody is giving gifts and celebrating everyone else-and not giving anything to you, not even acknowledging your birthday! I just can’t imagine…Oh, that I could give something to Jesus, like that little drummer boy thousands of years ago…but what could I give to a king, the King of the world? I have nothing worthy!”

Determined to the last answer and find that gift, she hastily jumped up from where she was and ran to find Samey to tell her of what she had found-and what they had to find.

That week, both of the girls searched to find that special thing to give, but were always at a loss. With their faith growing, Ashley and Samey continually visited “Dad’s Den” to study the Word and talk over many things that had come to contradict their faith. For instance, Mom’s continual hostility to religious things and that she was getting suspicious of them constantly going into the supposed “storage room”. They were trouble, but at the same time longing for her to one day venture in and find what they had found…the Truth. But somehow, they had been told to wait for God to do something.
*****************************************************************************************************************

Dad excitedly burst into the Den, his face aglow, holding a reasonably-sized box in his hands.

“Guess!” he said, holding the box up for them to see.

“Hmm… elves!” said Ashley, mischievously.

“No, no, better,” said Samey. “Summer in the Bahamas!” she giggled, pretending to shiver in the warm room with a fireplace.

Dad grinned, placing the box carefully on the glass coffee table in the middle of them. “Nope!”

He opened the box and pulled something out. “Mom and our gifts…New bibles!”

Samey and Ashley held their breaths, exited but worried at mom’s reaction to this new kind of gift. But dad continued.

“And,” he pulled couple of pamphlets out of the box, also. “Invitations to a special concert!”

The girls, unable to contain themselves, shouted simultaneously, “A Christmas concert!! Yay!”

Dad told them to calm down and huddle. “Ok, here’s what we’re gonna to do.”
*****************************************************************************************************************
Mom was walking with a nice long sparkling black dress, stiletto heals, and a red scarf down a parking lot with some new friends. They were chatting non-stop and trying to converse with her all at the same time while she just stared forward, not saying a word. A huge, 10-foot tall tree, with a large, 12-foot fake pot sat under it staring down at them. Lit and decorated, it stood before them in its glory. Some people had gathered to gawk at the gorgeous tree; others had come to take photos underneath it with their children. Suddenly, as the 5 women approached it, they all stopped talking. They simply stood there, looking up at it. One of the ladies suddenly broke the silence.

“Oh, it’s just a tree,” said Mrs. Galena as if it were as insignificant as a grain of salt, waving her hand about carelessly. “Come along, ladies! We must be going-”

“No, I’ve seen it before,” said Miss Longworth, her breath nearly taken away. “Somewhere…”

“Somewhere, somewhere in your memory,” said one woman, mockingly.

“No, it was a long time ago…there was a door…right…there.” She walked around the tree and pointed to a spot that almost looked hinged, like a door. Walking up to it, she pushed on it. The women following her giggled teasingly behind her, as she looked past her shoulder.

Then, Poof! They nearly fell into a bright, glittering party room, with a disco ball, where some where singing to the music. The women behind her slowly dispersed into the crowd and she was all of a sudden walking through the crowd, alone in awe. Christmas music was expertly being played by a band, and some swayed to the music. Gradually she saw tables of cookies and goodies and people standing behind them, coordinating and serving with joy and willingness to serve anybody, all wearing cute little Santa hats. Intending to ask one of the ladies where she was, she walked up to one of the tables.

“Um, Miss, I was wondering…”she peered up into the well-make-upped face. “Wait a moment…Samey?!” Samey looked up into her face, her expression confused. “What are you doing-?”

Instantly, just as mom was about to raise her voice and begin a long, angry tirade, the electrical guitar struck a high, streaming screeching yet beautiful note. A large chorus poured quickly onto the stage and the music began. A young girl, dressed in a loose, light blue dress to the floor stepped up onto the stage. Her long, wavy, gold-brown hair streamed about her shoulders and her coffee-colored eyes glowed. She raised her microphone to her lips.
“Come, just as you are,” said the beautiful voice, reaching out the very edges of the room.

“Ashley!?” gasped Mom in a single amazed breath.
*****************************************************************************************************************

As the concert was ending, Samey kept glancing over at mom, who continually was putting her hand up to her face.

“Oh,” thought Samey excitedly, “She’s crying! Oh, God, You were in this! Thank you, Lord, so much for this opportunity!” she put her arm about mom’s shoulder comfortingly. It seemed she hadn’t wanted the comfort and was trying to act tough and keep her dignity, but gradually her body relaxed and she felt her begin to slowly and softly sob. The sobs began to get louder, and then Samey looked at her face. She turned and gave her a hug.

“Oh, Mom!” said Samey.

“Samey, this is where I met your father! This is where God first knocked on my door! This is where history was made…” she kept crying. “And this is where he met me again…but this time the door opened!” they just stood there, then, and then Mom felt a little cold hand touch her shoulder.

“Mom, how’d I do?” whispered Ashley. Mom embraced her.

“Honey, I found God through your voice!” the chorus finished with “O Come, Let Us Adore Him”.

“No, the angel’s voices,” said Ashley, and she raised her face to look up at a beautiful light that shone in through the ceiling. The entire crowd looked up as the chorus began O Holy Night.”

Ashley sighed. Suddenly, as she gazed up at the star, a breathtaking realization came over her.

“Oh, Mom, Samey, Dad,” (who had come to join them after helping open up the vent to see the star) “I know what I can give Jesus! Like mom and the drummer boy, I can give the most important thing to me…my heart!”
************************************************************************************************************

Ashley jerked awake, peeling the covers off her body, jumping out of her bed. “Samey, Samey! Wake up! It’s Christmas Day!! Wake up!!” she grabbed her pillow and playfully threw it on Samey’s head. Waking up, Samey climbed numbly and nimbly out of the top bunk.

“It’s Christmas Day! Wake up, everybody!!”They shouted, skipping through the hall down to the kitchen, smelling hot coca and cookies. Striding happily into the room, both girls walked up to their mom and gave her a kiss at the same time, sneaking cookie batter from the bowl she had been stirring. Realizing what they were doing, Mom playfully smacked at their hands and smiled. The twins, waking up the moment they heard their crazy teen-ager sisters running through the hall, skipped happily into the room.

“Morning, Mommy!” said Xavier.

“Mommy is it Christmas yet?” said Alex, pleadingly.

“Yes,” said mom.

Dad walked in sleepily, his huge slippers dragging behind. He, too, walked up to mom, gave her a kiss, and, as uniform, swiped a lick of batter. “Good morning, Peoples!” everybody echoed.

“The pancake batter is in the fridge, Samey, and Ashley-” Lila cried in the bedroom, hearing all the commotion. “You mind getting Lila?” nodding, Ashley headed to Lila’s room.

“Thanks, God, for this Christmas,” prayed Ashley as she headed down the hall, “Thanks for the joys, the tests and trials, the many things you brought us through…”she picked up Lila out of her crib, soothing her by bouncing her on her hip and grabbing her blanket to wrap about her, “Now I can have a new and real spirit towards the season, God, and I can enjoy it…knowing what it’s all about…as long as I never forget what it. Thank you, God for the hardships, Lord, that made me closer to you.”