The Three Brothers~ Hogan Stevens

"She's caught tight!" Othniel called from atop the ravine.

Quinn sighed in aggravation, but Nolan stood off to the side, thoughtful.

The three brothers were sheep herders. For half an hour now they had been searching for one wayward lamb, which had wondered off into the ravine. Its wobby legs had somehow led it toward the most dangerous part of the slope, where just below the rushing river threatened to sweep it away should it fall. The rocks were more like boulders here where the small creature had succeeded in tangling itself in some reeds wedged just between two large rocks. The poor lamb bleated mildly as Othniel carefully made his way out of the ravine and back to his brothers standing safely at the edge.

"I can walk down to him, Quinn. It won't take but a second, and then we can be on our way." Othniel crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed the rocky slope, determination set on his rugged face. He was the oldest of the three and by far the most adventurous and confident. Once when he was just Nolan's age, he had slain a wolf with his bare hands.

Quinn snorted. "Yes, you would slide down to it, and be eaten by the river." The second brother, by far the most intelligent, squinted at the raging waters below. Calculating. "We need to think this through. Perhaps if you tied a rope about your waist and tied it to that tree--"

"Oh, and tell me where we'll get a rope that long!" Othniel interrupted with a barking laugh.

Quinn scowled at him and fell silent, but by the look on his face he was still forming a delicate, flawless plan.

"I can take a running start at it and avoid the rocks, alright? And then I can throw aside the boulders, scoop up the wee lamb, and there. Problem solved."

"By the steep set of the incline, you would fall to your death by running! I say we use the rope to help you down half of the way, and then you can crawl the rest of the distance. You'll need to roll the rocks aside, of course--"

"Of course--"

"--and try not to scare the lamb into running off."

Othniel frowned, insulted. "What? You think I don't know how to handle a lamb? I've been doing this far longer than any of you can--"

"Oh! Don't start that up again!"

The two brothers had forgotten all about their youngest, and assuredly most thoughtful and quiet, brother. Nolan had been standing off to the side, ignoring his siblings' bickering. He was quite used to being forgotten, pushed to the side. But this day, he knew exactly what to do. He was surprised neither Othniel nor Quinn had already thought of it, but then again, they were too busy arguing to really look.

Without a word, Nolan slipped away. Othniel and Quinn didn't even notice his leaving.

With a growl of aggravation, Othniel glanced up at the sun. "We're losing daylight, brother. I'm going down. Without that blasted rope." He scowled at the length of rope that Quinn was now holding.

"At least start from the least dangerous spot, Othniel." Quinn pointed with the rope, indicating what looked to be the least dangerous way to start the descent.

Othniel laughed again. "Least dangerous?! And where would be the fun in that?"

He turned from Quinn, his movements sure and confident as he readied himself for the run down the ravine. Cracking his knuckles dramatically, he turned to spot the lamb--and stopped. From behind Othniel, Quinn gasped as he saw it at the same time.

The lamb was no longer pinned.

It was now resting safely in Nolan's arms as the boy slowly made his way back up the rocky slope. The two brothers watched in shock as Nolan cleared the edge.

"What...How did you...?"

"You could've been hurt--"

With a smile, Nolan interrupted, "While you two were bickering about the best way to avoid sliding down the rocks, that's exactly what I did. They actually helped me get down safely, and I used them as handholds on the way up."

The light of understanding lit Quinn's face, but Othniel simply continued to frown.

Setting the lamb safely to its feet, Nolan shrugged. "Sometimes, brothers, what we see as a hindrance...can actually be used to get us out of the problem we're in. We only need to see it."

Othniel glanced at Quinn, both of them wearing expressions of complete surprise. Then smiles broke forth, and Othniel nudged Quinn in the ribs.

"I think I like this kid. He's not too bad!"

　

Photograph property of Lilies Among Thorns Magazine. Photograph taken by Vanessa.

This Dance~ Hogan Stevens

She was dressed in pure radiance, the very picture of beauty. But her smile, though lovely, was anything but real. She had been to so many balls before that she had quickly lost count, and this one was just like any other.

 

Already she had been asked to dance with the usual men. They were always the same. None were ever right. None were ever the one she searched for. They were always more concerned about her status or her looks rather than who she truly was.

 

Then again, she doubted anyone really knew just who she was. A princess, yes. But lonely. So lonely.

 

"Dance with me, Princess?"

 

A young lord bowed before her and she rose with a soft sigh. Beaming, he swept her off toward the crowded ballroom floor. The room was a flurry of movement and color as the guests danced together. Laughter could be heard over the sound of the stringed instruments providing the lively music.

 

The princess allowed her gaze to sweep the crowd as she danced with the young lord, and she could not help but wonder when the king was going to appear. It was by his invitation that she was in his kingdom at all, and she knew that everyone here was earnestly awaiting his appearance. No one had ever seen him before, but everyone knew that he was the most wonderful, kind king in the whole seven kingdoms.

 

She wanted so badly to meet him.

 

A murmuring suddenly filled the room, replacing the laughter. A new, lovely song filled the air as the people quieted, and some even stopped dancing. Everyone had turned to look expectantly at the large open doorway.

 

Even her dance partner had taken an interest in whoever it was arriving. He gave a quick bow and then hurried off deeper into the crowd. The princess stayed where she was, suddenly afraid. What if the king did not like her? Or worse, what if he did not even notice her? There were so many people...

 

A man entered the ballroom. He was young, and he had the most pleasant face the princess had ever seen. His clothes were of pure white and even though he was obviously of great royalty, he smiled and talked openly with anyone that addressed him.

 

"Is that the king?" the princess asked a nearby dancing couple.

 

Glancing up from his wife, the dancing man took one look at the new arrival and shook his head. "That is his son, the prince of the seventh kingdom."

 

Hope filled the princess as she watched the prince make his way through the crowd. Would he notice her? She was too frightened to go up to him herself, so she simply watched from afar. He danced with many women--young and old--throughout the night, and he even spent the time to talk with the men as well. But he never came to her.

 

It became very late. It seemed to her the prince had danced or talked with everyone in the ballroom, and the princess was the only one that sat alone, quiet and anxious. She wanted so badly to meet him...

 

"Why are you afraid?"

 

Startled from her thoughts, the princess glanced up--right at the prince himself. He smiled down at her, and a peace blossomed within her. He had come to her...even though she had nearly been hiding from him.

 

Many people had left the ball by now, and the people were no longer dancing. A sadness filled the princess's heart. She desired to dance with the prince. A sudden conviction came over her, telling her that if she danced with him it would somehow change her forever. To be in the presence of such a magnificent, powerful man...The princess was too shy to ask him to dance with her. She told herself she was just being silly. Why was she so disappointed that she would not get to dance with him? Silly.

 

"I...just am." she said softly, avoiding his gaze.

 

He laughed, and the princess could not help but look at him again. He was so pure, so unlike the other men she had met.

 

"I thought that if you did not come to me by this time, I would have to go to you myself," he said with a smile. "Because there is one thing I must ask you."

 

A small gasp escaped from her mouth as the princess stared at him in surprise. He had been waiting for her all night? For the first time in ages, a smile graced her face as she listened to what he had to ask. And this time, the smile was genuine and full of joy.

 

"My princess, can I have this dance?"

A Night to Remember... Forever by Nataleigh Robinson

I will never forget the Halloween of my 16 year for 2 reasons: 1. My mom was finally trusting me enough to let me go to a Halloween party at my friend Carly’s house. And 2. It was a night that changed my life forever.    

          I spent a great amount of time on my costume trying to decide what I would go as and in the end decided to go as the Roman goddess Ceres, the goddess of growing things.  My mother made an amazing green dress that looked like it was made out of leaves and I painted leaves and flowers on my arms and face and tied flowers in my hair.  It was an amazing costume if I do say my self and I would like to think I would have been the center of the party if I had ever arrived.

          About 6:00 pm Halloween night I dressed up into my outfit wished my parents good night and departed from the house.  I climbed into the back of the family car and gave our driver directions to the house. 

          Now is probably as a good a time as any to mention the fact that my families rich.  Both of my parents have pretty incredible jobs: My mom’s a lawyer and my dad’s in the FBI.  Since I’m their only child I pretty much get anything I ask for and since I’m so rich not to mention an A+ student I’m pretty poplar with both my peers an my teachers. 

Some people say I’m spoiled but I don’t see it that way.  The way I see it I’m just blessed or at least that’s what my mom says.  My mom’s a Christian and goes to church every Wednesday and Sunday she used to take me with her when I was younger but after I met Carly I began to hate the fact that I spent half my weekend at church and backed out.  

          My dad used to go to church to but that was before he got so grounded in his job.  Now he only goes for Christmas and Easter and since he goes I go too.  I guess I figure if Dad can take a break from his work to go to church on a holiday I can take a break from my parties and shopping sprees.  But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

          Anyway back to Halloween:  I sat in the back seat of the moving car as Bert, our driver, drove the young goddess to Carly’s party.  We had barley pulled out of our gated community when my cell chirped and I pulled it out to discover Melody had sent me a text.

          “R U goin 2 prty 2nite?”

“Ya” I sent the text and waited a second sure enough a moment later the phone chirped again.

“Wat U goin as?”

“Ceres.” 

I soon was so caught up in my text conversation that I didn’t realize when Bert started heading the opposite direction of Carly’s house.  15 minutes later I heard the car turn off and looked up to realize I had no idea where I was.  “Bert, where are we?” But as I looked up I realized that the man who was staring at me through the rear-view was not Bert at all but a complete stranger.  “Who are you and what have you done with Bert?”  The man just smiled at me wickedly and got out of the car. 

In a panic I tried the door handle but the man must have set the child lock because I couldn’t open it.  I snatched up my phone and started to dial 911 but before I could hit send the door opened and I was pulled out of the car.  I was thrown into a completely dark and empty room where my captor said I would stay.  Until my father paid him the money he was owed I would stay right there.  Than he slammed the door leaving me in complete darkness.

I don’t know how long I was balled up in that room but I do know this:  It was the best thing that ever happened to me.  I know it sounds strange for me to say something like that but it’s true.  Let me explain.

While I was in that room I thought I was going to die.  Plain and simple, I thought my life was over.  I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch since we were supposed to be eating at Carly’s and I knew that if my parents didn’t pay, my captor would either kill me or let me starve.  Either way if my parents didn’t do something I was dead.  Soon my thoughts overcame me as I began to think:

  I thought about the party I was missing and began to imagine what it would have been like if I had actually succeeded in arriving.  My green flowing dress would have been the star attraction no doubt and maybe just maybe I could have stolen a dance or two from Jared Blare. 

I thought of my parents and what would they think when they received the call telling them I had been kidnapped.  How long would it take them to gather the money?  Would they even care?  I had always been a disappointment to them constantly asking for money to buy this or that but never having the tiniest bit of compassion in my heart to go to church with my mother. 

I thought of my childhood.  How I used to go to church every Wednesday and Sunday with my mom then just on Sunday and now only when Dad went which was barely ever.  I remembered a time long ago when I had sat between my mother and father and listened to the pastor preach his sermon.  I suddenly realized that I missed those days.  I had always felt safe in church and then I had met Carly and safety was replaced with pleasure.  I had spent the last 2 years of my life searching for something but not really sure what that something was.  And now as I sat reminiscing about my childhood I realized the one thing that had been missing from my life: God.

I soon realized tears were streaming down my cheeks and suddenly a thought popped into my head actually something my mom used to always say to me when I was younger.  Pray Heather, when ever you’re in trouble don’t ever hesitate to pray.  He’ll listen to you even if you don’t think you deserve to be heard.”

So right then and there I prayed.  I prayed that God would get me out of this dark room,  I prayed he would release me from my captor and most of all I prayed he would change me from the inside out.

I was in captivity for about a month.  My captor who’s name was Bill- at least that’s what he told me to call him- let me out of the dark cell within a day and locked me in another room with bared windows and a camera in the corner.  But at least I had a bed, lights and my own bathroom-void of camera’s and window’s.  Bill told me that he had given my parents one month to get the money before he would do away with me.  I was frightened but thanks to my Sunday school memorization program when I was 10 I had all the encouragement I needed to get through the month. 

The end of November brought great fear to me as the money from my parents never came- I found out later that my parents had been struggling financially for a long time but hadn’t told me and so trying to come up with the amount required to rescue me had become impossible to get.  One night Bill came into my room and he was carrying a gun.  I was frightened and thought suddenly that this would be my last night on earth.  But he suddenly started crying.  When I asked him what was wrong he told me.  “Heather, I have never met anyone like you.  There’s no way I could ever kill someone as amazing as you.  The threat of death has been hanging over you for the last month and still you smile as if nothing was going on.  I can’t do this to you or your family.  You’re free to go.”

I could hardly believe it.  I thought for sure that he had something up his sleeve but he wasn’t and about an hour later I was safe in my mother’s arms.

          I went to church with my mother that Sunday and at school I told Carly about my changed life.  Needless to say she thought I was crazy and I never spoke to her again but I soon made new friends at my parent’s church.  I never saw Bill again but 4 years later I received a letter in the mail.  The letter was from Bill thanking me for being such a wonderful example to him and putting him on the “Straight and Narrow”.  Attached was a picture of him and his wife and his beautiful new born daughter.  I was completely thrilled to know that I had made a difference in this mans life when at the same time he had made a difference in mine.

The Story of Joseph~ Short Story by Nataleigh Robinson

“I don’t deserve this.”

 

            My face hit the rough stone ground as the prison warden threw me into my new home, a prison cell, I didn’t deserve this.  I had worked hard for my master and mistress harder than all the rest of their slaves put together.  So why had my mistress sent me here?  I ran up to the grate in the door and shouted out to the wardens receding figure. “I’m innocent I don’t deserve to be here.” 

          “That’s what they all say.”  The warden laughed without turning around he turned a corner and a door slammed in the distance.  I was alone in this dank smell.  I take that back there were the rats who I found got more of my food than I did.  

          I slumped down to the ground and looked up at the single bright star that shone through the small window engraved in the wall.  “Oh God.”  I prayed.  “Don’t let me die here you know I don’t deserve this.”  I sighed as I thought about what I had said and then I added “But you know what’s best for my life and I trust you.”  With that I lay down and slept a long and peaceful sleep.

          You may be wondering how I got into this situation and why I don’t deserve to be here.  Well let me explain in order to do so we need to go back to when I was about 17.  No even farther for the year I turned 10 was when this story really begins

 

                             About 10 years before

       

          I came from a fairly large family.  I live with my mother, father and younger brother, Ben.  But beyond that my aunt and her seven children live with us.  We also have a decent amount of servants two of which have two children of their own giving us a grand total of 13 children and about 7 adults including servants. 

          My mother, Rachel was barren for most of my parents’ marriage and so it was that my father thought of my cousin Reuben as a son and even told my aunt that Reuben would get my father’s inheritance when he died.  So you can imagine my aunt’s sorrow when I was born and therefore her and all my cousins especially Judd found they were jealous of me. 

          My father worked as a farmer and when I was of decent age he had me help my cousins in the fields.  Thinking back I am certain that that was when my troubles began.  I well remember the first time I was ever to help them.  I was just about 10 and had a big mouth which my cousins hated. 

 

          “Well Joe it’s the first time you are to help your cousins with the chores.  Do you think you’re ready?”  My father asked me only days after my 10^th birthday I nodded vigorously and my father handed me a small bucket.  “Don’t get in the way now you hear.  Just go over there,” He pointed to the field where I could barely see the top of my cousin Izzie’s head.  “And just hold the bucket for Izzie to put stuff in, all right” I nodded again and took off running toward Izzie.      

          I reached Izzie out of breath.

          “What are you doing here twerp.”  Izzie scolded me. 

          “Father said I could hold the bucket for you.”  Izzie narrowed his eyes at me unbelieving.

          “I’m 10 now you know that’s old enough to at least hold the bucket.” 

          “Are you sure?”  He jeered at me bending down to get close to my face.  “Once there’s stuff in it gets pretty heavy.  I don’t think a little shrimp like you would be able to carry it all the way back to the house much less lift it up to the table.”  I stuck my lip out and my eyes began to fill with tears.

          “Ahh leave him be Izzie.”  Reuben spoke up.   “He can hold the bucket if not for you then for me.”  Izzie crossed his arms and grunted. 

          “Fine then he can help you.  I don’t want a little snitch to be working with me all day.”

          “Why?  You got something to hide Izzie?”  I’d never seen any of my cousins speechless but especially not Izzie but Izzie was sure speechless right about then.  “Come on Joe you can come hold the bucket for me.”  I followed Reuben around the corner and for the rest of the day held the bucket for him while he filled it with different sorts of veggies. 

          I found myself going back and forth from the house to the garden with the bucket.  Izzie hadn’t been kidding when he said that the bucket was heavy.  But Dinah, yet another one of my cousins was a great help in getting the heavy bucket on the table and emptied and she even put the vegetables away in the cellar so I didn’t have to go down the rickety old stairs and into that dark and scary cellar.  Of course later in my life I would have to live in many dark and scary places but not for another 7 years. 

 

          I spent the next 7 years working alongside my cousins in different things.  But I got myself into quiet a bit of trouble when I was about 16, my cousins did some unmentionable things that I found impossible to keep from my father.  And so it was that I earned the name tattletale as well as some other unmentionable names.  Although I do have to say I was quite prideful and rubbed things in their faces.  Which I’m sure made them madder. 

          One day my mother called me and my cousins Zeb and Levi into the house.  Holding my three year old brother Ben on her hip she gave us her instructions “I need you three to go into town and get some things for me.”  She handed Levi a list and some money and me a bag to put things in. 

          While we were in town Levi and Zeb were window shopping as well.  Suddenly Zeb cried out “look at this Levi.  Look at this coat isn’t it beautiful.”  Levi and I walked over to the window that Zeb was looking into.  And Levi gasped.

          “It is gorgeous Zeb.”  And I thought so too it was a beautiful deerskin coat and it looked expensive. 

          When we got home I immediately asked my father for it.  My cousins all laughed even Reuben whom had taken quite a liking to me.  “its way too expensive you’ll have to raise your own money for something like that.” 

          “Besides,” Zeb said laughing uncontrollably, “It probably wouldn’t even fit you properly you’re as skinny as a stick.  That coat’s meant for strong men not weak 17 year old boys. I frowned but I refused to let their jeering get my hopes down. 

          Sure enough about a month later was my 17^th birthday and I received the deerskin coat.  This was the worst thing that my father could have done for me for it made my cousins very jealous of me.

          About a week later my father sent me out to get my cousins who were working in the fields.  That was the last time I ever saw him.  The boys had gone out early in the morning with the cows to find fresher pastures.  I found them in a lush field they were doing something beside an old dried up well.  I ran up to them.  “Judd, Izzie, Levi, Zeb, Reuben what are you doin?”  What a stupid question.  If I had just told them what I had come to tell them instead of always butting into things that were none of my business then maybe I wouldn’t be where I am today.  But as it is I didn’t. 

          “Did your father send you here to spy on us Joe? You seem to be good at it.”

          “No he didn’t” I said getting closer and closer to them by the second.  As soon as I was close enough they jumped me Judd held a knife to my throat.  “I should just kill him now Reuben.” 

          “No we can’t kill our own flesh and blood throw him in the well as we agreed.”  Even then with the knife pressed against my throat, even at Reuben’s suggestion of throwing me into that terrible well, I am thankful of him that I am still alive.  

          I spent the rest of the day in that dark hole.  The sun was down and the moon high in the sky when they finally let down a rope to me.  But when I reached the top I found that it wasn’t my cousins after all but Bandit’s whom my cousins had sold me to.  As they tied me up and threw me on one of the horses.  I could see Judd’s yellow smile and the shine of silver as he counted the money from a bag that the bandits had thrown him and as I looked closer I saw 5 more faces surrounding him the faces of my cousins and a sudden laugh rent the air.  Simon’s laugh he had the most evil laugh of all my cousins.  The last thing that struck my mind as the bandits spurred the horses on is that Reuben was not with them and I hoped even then that he had not been part of that wicked plan.

 

          We rode for quite some time before finally getting to the rich town of Gaza . The bandit’s sold me to a man named Ishmael Potts.  I made the best of my status and before long I was Potts most trusted servant and his wife’s personal attendant, a job I would have much rather passed up. 

          One day Ishmael went out on business and I was left to care for his wife.  The only problem as I was soon to discover was that Ella had fallen deeply in love with my tan skin and strong arms.  I was out on the terrace overseeing some things when she came up behind me.  “Joe,” she whispered “As you know my husband is not here.  Come away with me to my husband’s chamber.  Ishmael will never know.”  I gasped in surprise.

          “My lady your husband trusts me with everything in this house including you.  None of the servants have as much authority as I do.  I have access to every room and possession in this house.  But you are his wife I can not do this evil thing.  It would be a sin if not against you then against your husband, my master and against my God.”  She was furious at me and when her husband returned she accused me of trying to seduce her.  I tried to reason with him but he wouldn’t hear of it and therefore had me thrown into this prison that I am in even now. 

          Although much has changed since you came in at the beginning of the story.  Now the warden respects me and actually lets me out everyday and I help him to feed the other prisoners.  So it is that I know that God has everything under control.  I don’t know if I’ll ever get out of this prison (although that cup bearer said he would do all he could to get me out) it really doesn’t matter anymore because I know He has it all under control.  I do hope to one day see my family again I forgave my cousins long ago and now all I want to do is give them a great big hug every single one of them.  I don’t know what God has in store for me but whatever it is, even if it’s staying in this old musty prison for the rest of my days I know that it’s part of God’s plan. 

          For a closing note I’ll just say this: Remember that no matter what life throws at you.  It’s part of God’s plan and he’s watching out for you.  And not to worry if dreams can tell the future I’ve got nothing to worry about.  After all one of the nickname’s my cousins gave me was “dreamer” But I must stop now for the warden is shooing me back into my cell.  The guards are coming and I must not be seen out of my cell.

 

          Story found in Genesis 37, 39 & 35:23-26

        Story continued in Genesis 41-45  

   

Sprig's Journey: The Tale of Noses by Hogan Stevens

The title of this article just so happens to also be the title of a (quite strange) story my best friend and I wrote some time ago. It's one of the weirdest, most stupid stories ever.

You see, whenever she and I have sleepovers we tend to...get rather, uh, crazy. Which is strange, since we are both normally very introverted and quiet. But it seems that as soon as night falls we become the exact opposite of our usual selves, staying up till the wee hours of morning making up stories and giggling like mad.

The story I have mentioned took nearly an hour to come up with, and it was insanely fun to make up. We both took turns narrating the story aloud, starting off where the other would stop, and eventually we finished with a six page tale that involved dragons, monsters, a man named Sprigs, and noses. Lots of noses. I think we may have been slightly under the influence of sugar by then, because at the time we were having a blast thinking of new circumstances to put our hero in...but now that I reread the story, I have to admit that it is sort of embarrassing.

"Once upon a time, there was a prince who lived in a castle. He was a lonely prince, though, because his princess had been stolen away from him by a dragon because he--the dragon, that is--thought that she had the most beautiful nose in the world. The dragon kept the princess because he wanted to use her nose as a model for his nose-shaped castle."

Ah, yes. As I said, my friend Chandler and I can get very creative. And most of the things we come up with after midnight are just plain silly. But that's what sleepovers are supposed to be, right? Silly! You're supposed to be able to enjoy yourselves without worrying about being thought of as weird or having to think about what's going on at school or in your life. At a slumber party, it is just you and your friends having fun and being silly.

Have you ever made up stories like Chandler and me? Trust me, if you have not, you really should try it sometime. It definitely is fun. Just think of an opening line (i.e. "There was once a girl named Lisa who lived by the sea") and then take off from there. With Chandler and me, we always try to make it as silly and unbelievable as possible.

In Sprig's Tale, the story ends up focusing on the princess's lost son, Sprigs, who was so named because of the sprigs of shininess he had in his long, luxorious hair. He goes on an adventure, aided by a kindly Snot Monster, to save his mother from the dragon.

You may just end up with some strange story much like this one, and you will definitely have a lot of fun creating it. Don't worry, though; you don't necessarily have to share the story with anyone besides your friends. I know I'm terribly embarrassed now that I've got the Snot Monster creation out in the open. ;)

Did you know that Hogan loves to sketch and draw?!

Pity Party~ Emily Ciszewski

Katie Stevens wanted nothing more than a steaming hot tub and a journal. Stomping up the stairs with a robe in her arms and a journal in her right hand, she took a deep breath and screamed in anger “Uhhhh!”. Lucky for her, no one was home.

“How can he do this to me?! Why? How come it’s always me who likes the guy when he doesn’t even look at me?! What’s wrong with me God? What on your crazy green earth is wrong with me? Everyone says I’m pretty, I’m into sports, I go to all the parties - I even strike up conversations! Why doesn’t anyone ever like me? Is my approach to forward? But I don’t even flirt…well, not like other girls do! What if I do flirt? Will it make you mad? Well too bad! Who cares…if a person can’t be happy with you why stay with you?”

“I’m sorry God…I didn’t mean it. It’s just not fair.”She turned the faucet and let it steam up, plugged the drain and dipped her fingers into the hot water. Her pen started running over the paper, the water dripping along the top of the pen down to the page, smudging the ink like a good cry.“
I mean, really!

Why am I the one who can never add anything to the relationship conversations - the girls always have tons of stuff to lay down - but all I can say is “God hasn’t shown me the right guy yet…”. And of course all the girls think I’m ‘little miss spiritual’ - who wants to hang out with me anyway?
God - why are you so mean? It’s not fair! Ahh! - you’re so mean God!”

How come Howard doesn’t like me? I’m nice to him! It’s so weird…he seems to like Sal and Michelle - and he even talks to Jackie - why not me? It’s so not fair!”First it was Ryan, then Jamie, Craig, and now Howard? What is wrong with you God? Why can’t a good Christian girl even have a healthy dose of relationship in her life? I’m not even asking for him to kiss me! All I want is for him to talk to me! I say “hi” every day -I even smile! But of course all he does is look at his books, talk to his guy friends and even in youth-group he totally ignores me! Why can’t he even talk to me? It’s so annoying! I know, I know, I should be so committed to you that I hardly ever think about guys - but I’m 18! Why can’t anyone notice me? Okay, there was Troy and Rich - but they’re freshman! Who wants those little pimply, sex driven boys driving after them?Tears streamed down her face, softly, and the running water like a mini Niagara Falls for background effect - if she could only jump it right now - why not?“I want to die - maybe someone would be sad and cry over my casket - maybe Howard - or maybe someone I’ve never even seen before - a secret admirer, maybe he’d go have himself a big mourning, and talk to my grave everyday…how romantic! If only someone would do that while I was alive! Come crying to me - telling me how much they’ve loved me!”She unplugged the drain, shrugged on her pajamas and slipped into her robe. A bath was always the most dramatic thing to do when she felt all emotional - coffee. Coffee was the next thing on the list of pity party necessities.

Still clutching her journal, she headed back down stairs and into the kitchen, lit her Caramel Sauce candle and started the coffee machine. “You know, I would be really mature with a relationship - I wouldn’t go on private dates, and I’d only hang out when people were around - and that’s saying something! Cause I could just hand it all away and take everything available! And I’m 18! You know, it’s not like I don’t love you God - I spend way more time with you than my friends seem to - I read my Bible everyday, I talk to lonely kids at school - I even go to all the volunteer trips with Youth Group! I’m a good person - I know, I know - being good doesn’t make you a Christian - I’m not saying that.”The machine dripped slowly and then stopped. She pulled a mug from the cabinet and filled it with black, stirred in Hazelnut creamer and headed to the living room.

Her favorite blanket was on the couch, so she grabbed it and sank into the plush carpet.“Yeah, I know - I still need a lot of work. I guess that’s why I’m journaling like this any-who. I should be over these pity-parties by now. Hmmm…I wish you were here. It would be so much easier to get over stuff if you were always with me! I know - you are always with me - in spirit and all - but I mean really - really with me! Like where I could see you! So I could hold your hand - no - totally fall into your arms - and I so would! Oh God - please - please come sit with me! I want you so bad! It’s like that Bible verse about you sending your spirit into our hearts - crying “Abba - Father!” I want you! It’s your spirit in my heart screaming for you! I need you so bad God - I need you here with me! Who cares about boys? I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone before! I need you like crazy - I think I might cry!”Tears came again - her face to the ceiling - they came - pouring down her cheeks, a small whimper escaped and almost led to another but she stopped it.“You say if I draw near to you, you’ll draw near to me - why aren’t you here!

You say if Your children love you and seek you You’ll come to them - why not me! Why don’t you come to me! I need you Jesus - I need you!”Mom’s Bible was on the table, she reached for it and opened it up, letting it fall where it would.
It opened up to Song of Solomon - chapter 8. She quickly grabbed her journal and wrote;“Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal on thine arm: for love is strong as death and as cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.”
(S.S. 8:6)
Still letting the tears fall she lay there, in the blanket - and it almost felt as if He were right there…his left hand were under her head and his right hand embracing her…the most perfect pity party yet.

Lord - that’s how I’m longing for you - and it’s so much more than I was longing for a guy’s love - you are so much more worth my tears! I’m setting you as a seal upon my heart - your name is on my heart - on my soul O God! Please be with me - I would die right now - happily to be with you!

“Make haste my beloved, and be thou like to a roe or young hart upon the mountains or spices.”
(8:14)
“His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me.”
(8:3)

I love you Lord, thank you - thank you for taking my pity party and making it a time with you! But I still want you more and more - I want you like the fire wants wood! Lord…I love you. Let us be forever joined - I want you with me forever, it’s such a crazy love…I adore you God - and this is awesome!”

Did you know that Emily thinks hammocks are a piece of heaven?!

She couldn’t wait for the next one.

Garden of Joy~ Short Story by Nataleigh Robinson

There is a moment in every young person’s life when they decide this is who I’m going to be.  Some get to make the decision themselves, choosing who they want to be and what they want to do with their lives without people’s expectations to hold them down.  I always envied them, for I was never given that choice.

My father always told me what I was going to be and I knew better than to ask questions.  But when he left to be with another woman his expectations left with him and new ones came to take their place.  My mother’s expectations were for me to help in keeping the house and taking care of my younger sister while my two older sisters did their best to make money.  But even with my help we still had to move to the poorer part of town and to a cheaper school.

Even my new friends had expectations for me.  They expected me to drink and smoke and fool around.  But at least these expectations were better than my mothers and so I fulfilled them. I don’t remember the exact moment I became a criminal but before long I was a regular vandal.  But I do remember clearly the night of my first arrest, and even more than that I remember my sentence.  Forty hours of community service for Mrs. Hunter, the old women whose house my friends and I had tagged and egged two weeks before. 

We had spent so much time making fun of the poor old women.  We knew that she was too weak to clean up the egg shells herself; in fact, she was barely even strong enough to take care of her garden on her own.  We laughed whenever we saw her son scrubbing the walls of her house from the old yoke.  How were we supposed to know her son was a cop?

I remember those days so clearly, though I dreaded the very thought of working for Mrs. Hunter.  I thought I would be like working for the devil in hell itself.  Maury said she probably smelled because she was too weak to take a bath, and Theo thought she was probably a bitter old women who would work me to death.  Needless to say, I quickly decided that I would much rather be scraping gum off of the lunchroom table then working for this woman. 

But I quickly realized just how wrong they both were.  In fact Mrs. Hunter was much more fit than we realized.  She spent hours working in the garden.  She had a muscle condition that kept her from being able to lift her hands above her head, or to stand for long periods of time, which was why she needed help cleaning the egg off of her porch ceiling.  Still she helped with as much as she could.  But there was one day that will always be engraved in my memory for all eternity, a day that changed my life forever.

It was toward the end of my sentence, we were working together in the garden because most of her other odd jobs had been finished.  Suddenly, she turned to me and said, “Do you know why I enjoy gardening, dear?”

I was surprised; I was used to her jabbering on and on about the old days, but this was the first time that she had ever asked me a direct question.  I shook my head unsure how else to answer.  She stopped her work and smiled at me, “It’s because flowers are some of the weakest creatures on the face of this planet.  A chill wind can blow them over, a sudden frost can kill them…an ignorant child can crush them with one misplaced foot.”

I looked away and turned my concentration back on pulling weeds knowing that she was referring to me and my friend’s destruction of her garden 3 weeks before.  But Mrs. Hunter continued, “Flowers are much like people in that way, a misplaced word or a thoughtless deed can crush the life right out of them.”  She motioned toward the handful of weeds in my hands, “weeds sneak in and attempt to strangle them, but with the right nurturing hand, these flowers can grow stronger than ever.”

She paused and watched me for a moment as I struggled with a stubborn weed then said, “Dear, I know you’ve been hurt, I don’t how or by who, but if you keep letting the weeds choke out your growth, if you let the frost kill your joyful spirit and you allow the ignorant people in your life to stomp out your love for life, then you will be no better than the weeds.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat then forced myself to speak as bitterly as possible not wishing for the tremor in my voice to peek through, “If we’re like the flowers then what does it matter, when winter comes I’ll be dead anyway.”

Mrs. Hunter shook her head, “That’s someone else’s words you’re speaking, someone in your life has told you you’re worthless and you’ve believed them.”  She stood up then and brushed the dirt off her hands, “Come with me I have to show you something.”

She led me around to the back yard where there was a large tree that I had seen many times before.  The tree stood in the center of the yard with pink and purple flowers on it. Tiny white flowers climbed up it trunk and wrapped around it’s branches and curled them all the way to the top making it look like they were sprouting flowers out of the side.  Along its base hundreds of tiny forget-me-nots bloomed.  

Mrs. Hunter picked one of the forget-me-nots from the base of the tree.  She gave it to me and I frowned not understanding what was so special about this simple flower.  “Forget-me-nots are perennials. Do you know what that means?” I heard the term before but had never bothered to learn what it meant, so didn’t answer, she continued.

“Like all flowers, perennial flowers die in the winter, they feel all the harsh winds that the others feel and are crushed by the same driving snows, but unlike the weaker annual flowers, perennials return each year when spring comes.”  She picked one of the white flowers from its place on the tree and handed it to me as well.  The petals were twisted into the shape of a star and I was awed at the simple beauty of these flowers

“These are moonflowers.”  Carol explained, “Moonflowers are also perennials and they are also climbing plants; they need another stronger plant, or a wall to cling to in order to be healthy.  That’s why I planted them so close to my fuschia tree.”

With that she looked up and pulled down one of the smaller of the large flowers from the tree. “I planted this tree nearly twenty years ago now.  It was just a tiny sapling at the time I had to tie it down to keep the wind from pushing it over.  It’s become so big and strong since that time. Sure it still has to deal with the winters, and it even looses its flowers, but they always return more beautiful than the year before.”  She looked at me with a look that said I should understand her point but I was still confused. 

“Darling, people are going to get you down in life and it’s true sometimes it’s hard to forget what people have done to you.  You may feel like life as you know it is over, but like a perennial you have to get back up and try again.  You’re going to have to rely on people sometimes to help get you through, but you need to rely on people who can support your weight.  Think of what would happen if one of these moonflowers tried to attach itself to a forget-me-not.  Both would collapse.  But by clinging to a strong tree it’s able so survive.”

I thought about she was saying and then said, “You’re saying I’m like a moonflower and my friends are like forget-me-nots.”

She nodded. 

“So what does that make you? The Tree?” I said knowing I couldn’t hide the bitterness of my tone.

Carol smiled, “Maybe, maybe not.  I can be if you want me to be.  I’m old; I’ve seen and experienced a lot of things.  I can’t say that what you’re going through is exactly new to me.”

I shrugged and looked away, “Well you’ve only seen the surface stuff.”

“That’s true, but I know how to use my eyes to see what you allow on the surface, and I analyze these things through my hearts eye which can see far more.”  I turned back to face her, and I’m sure my confusion was obvious.  “For example,” she continued, “I can tell just by looking at you that you are from Middle Eastern descent and by your slight accent I would assume first generation, your parents probably speak your native tongue at home.”

I nodded slightly speechless at first and then finding my voice, “They did, until my father left a couple of years ago, my mother hasn’t spoken much since then.  We moved here from India when I was born.”

A knowing look came into her eyes then and she moved toward the house, “I think the rest of this conversation should be finished over a plate of cookies and tall glasses of milk.”  We moved into the house and soon were settled in the living room, each of us a glass of milk and a plate of cookies between us.  As soon as we were comfortable Mrs. Hunter said, “If you were born in India I imagine it’s safe to say that whatever name you have told your friends is not your real name.”

I gulped afraid of where this conversation was now headed she continued, “Am I right in believing that you were born with the name of Nakusha?”

I nodded tears springing into my eyes and I blinked them away and tried placing the firm look back on my face not wanting her to see that she had struck a cord, “It’s a common name for girls in India, why shouldn’t my parents call me Nakusha?”

“Because it tells of what your parents think of you and how they treat you.  They treat you as if you were Nakusha…unwanted.  Let me tell you something, dear, I do not see you as a Nakusha I see you as” She paused for a moment thinking of a more fitting name before saying, “a Sada…a pearl.  And I know God thinks of you like that too.”

I scoffed, “What does it matter, a name does not make you who you are, I did that myself.  I chose this life.  I’m a criminal.”

Mrs. Hunter placed a hand gently on my shoulder and looked deep into my eyes, “No, it doesn’t,  but it says a lot about the person who named you, and if that person named you unwanted then I can only imagine what your home life must be like.  You don’t have to become what they expect you to be.  You can become what you want to be.  Tell me, what is the name that your friends call you?”

I smirked, “They call me Creo, it’s Latin for artist or creator.  My friend Theo is a big word nerd.”

“Is this a name that you like?”

I shrug, “It fits me well enough.  I spend enough time with my art.  But…”  I paused debating whether or not I should continue.  “I’ve always liked the name Sarah.”

“Ahh, a good name, it means Princess.  And it was the name that God gave to the wife of Abraham.  She was the mother of his chosen people.  She was a woman who would never be called Unwanted by her God.  And I would be honored if you would allow me to call you Sarah…Princess.”

Tears were flowing freely down my face by this time as I said, “I would like that a lot Mrs. Hunter.”

Mrs. Hunter smiled and said, “Well I’ll only call you Sarah if you call me by chosen name.”

“And what’s that?”

“Carol, a Song of Joy and for 30 years now I have been planting seeds of that joy in the garden of girls hearts…Nakusha’s just like you.  Because you see long ago when I was growing up in India a women did it for me.”

Did you know that in India women who only give birth to daughters are considered a disgrace to their families and will spend time in mourning after giving birth to a daughter?  Hundreds of girls have been named Unwanted and are treated more like property than family.  The only way that many of these girls can restore honor to themselves is by marrying a man who can a pay a good dowry.  Today in India, authorities are working to stop the practice by holding renaming ceremonies to help these girls regain the self-esteem that was stolen from them before they were even a minute old.  One day Nataleigh’s own sister hopes to work with young girls who have been raised in this setting.

Did you know that Nataleigh owns over a dozen hats?!

The Lonely Track~ Short Story by Nataleigh Robinson

The clock struck one and Addison glanced around the room again nervously.  He had said midnight, midnight exactly but as she looked around the room again she was beginning to doubt if he would ever come.  She glanced at her watch again and decided that she was done waiting around. 

She turned toward the door stopping only for a minute to look back over her shoulder hoping that someone would notice her departure, someone would stop her and tell her they wanted her to stay but just as she had expected no one paid her any attention. 

“Can I pull up you car miss?”

She snapped back to attention turning toward the valet who was standing behind her.  “Yes, Weems please.”  He spoke into the small speaker pinned to his jacket asking one of the drivers to “please pull up Miss Weems vehicle.” She watched the dancing guests spinning around the dance floor in the Waltz.  She sighed and took her coat from the man who had just brought it to her and turned to get into her car. 

As she drove the familiar road home her thoughts turned to Blaine once again.  She should have expected it, it was typical.  Every guy who had ever promised her anything always let her down in some way or another.  She should have known Blaine would be no exception. 

She was 20 years old and she was ready to settle down, get married and have children, but try as she might nobody was willing to stick around for long.  She had started online dating not long after her 20^th birthday deciding that if she didn’t start taking some control of her love life sooner than later than she would probably end up an old maid.

The thought of being single for the rest of her life usually made her feel sick to her stomach she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to die alone without having experienced true love and children and grandchildren.  What a lonely existence that would be.

When she had met Blaine through one of the online dating sights she had promised herself that she wouldn’t get worked up about him, she didn’t want to be disappointed.  But the more they had talked and the more they got to know each the harder she found it not to imagine herself marrying this guy and living happily ever after.  Finally after a couple months they had agreed to meet. 

She had spent hundreds of dollars on the perfect dress, spent hours searching for the perfect shoes and had booked her hair and nails appointment months in advance.  The evening was supposed to be glorious.  As she neared the punch bowl at five till midnight with heart pounding she had envisioned Prince Charming coming up and sweeping her off her feet.  But as the minutes ticked by she slowly started to realize that she had been stood up…again.

As she parked her car and headed inside to her small one bedroom apartment, she couldn’t erase the feeling of rejection and couldn’t help but feel like maybe there was something that she was doing wrong that was causing all the guys to run the other direction when they started getting to know her. 

           

She kicked off her heels and headed to the bathroom where she stood staring at herself in the mirror for a moment, “What am I missing?” She asked her reflection, “I think I look ok maybe not drop-dead gorgeous like some girls but it’s not like I’m hideous or anything.”

She took her time to change out of her dress all the while thinking through her potential flaws and trying to figure out what it was that caused Blaine to reject her.  By the time she crawled into bed she had practically convinced herself that she would never be able to attract a man.  “Maybe it would have been better if I hadn’t been so picky about the type of guy I wanted.  I’m sure it was my conviction to stay pure that scared Blaine off.  If I could do it over again I wouldn’t have been so hard to date.  Maybe I would be married by now” By the time she drifted off to sleep her pillow was soaked through with her tears. 

When she woke up the next morning she felt terrible.  Her sheets were tangled and in an attempt to untangle herself she ended up tumbling onto the floor.  She stood up in confusion wondering how she had misjudged where the edge of the bed was and scrambled to her feet.  The sun was shining through her single window and she decided that today would be a good day for a jog. 

“I’ll take a nice long jog and then I’ll come back and update my profile,”  She thought as she pulled on her tennis shoes,  “maybe there was something I’ve missed that’s been turning people off or maybe there’s something I need to add to it.”

She ran for probably a good hour before stopping and by then she was standing outside a small park with a little girl sitting on a swing.  There was a bench close by and she crossed the distance and flopped down on the bench.  The little girl hopped off the swing and rushed over stopping just a couple of feet from the bench, “What are you running from?”  She asked curiously.

Addison laughed softly, “I’m not running away from anything.”

The little girl climbed up onto the other end of the bench and stared intently at Addison, “You have to be running away from something, you were running like someone was chasing you, were you playing a game?”

“No I wasn’t playing a game,”  She was about ready to tell her once again that she wasn’t running away from anything but then realized that it wasn’t true.  “I guess I was running from something.”

The girl scooted a little closer and repeated her original question, “What are you running from?”

Addison sighed and leaned forward resting her chin in her hands, “Something I can’t get away from.”

The little girl looked around nervously her blond pigtails swinging back and forth as she looked for any sign of danger, “I should be getting home,”  She said slowly edging off the bench.

Addison laughed gently and shook her head. “I’m not running from a person, I’m running from a problem.”

The little girl looked relieved and climbed back onto the bench, “How do you run away from a problem?”  She asked pulling her legs underneath her and placing her small hands on her knees. 

Addison looked out at the park as a squirrel dashed up a tree startling a bird that flew away; she sighed and looked at the little girl that was staring at her eagerly.  “I’m not actually running away from anything.”  She stared down at her hands wondering why she was so nervous to talk to a little girl, it wasn’t like she would even understand what she was saying, “I’m just running to distract myself from thinking about my problem.”

The little girl nodded as if she understood and then to her surprise said, “I do that too.”  She looked down at her hands studying them as if they had suddenly become interesting, “except I don’t run I come here and swing on that swing,” She turned and pointed at the swing she had been previously sitting on.

Addison turned to look at the little girl staring at her curiously, “What do you have to distract yourself from?”

The little girl shrugged and didn’t look at Addison, “A lot of stuff,”

“Like what?”  Addison pressed sensing that this little girl had a lot of things on her mind.

She didn’t say anything

“Well I’m here because I’m tired of being alone.”

The little girl brightened, “Well you’re not alone anymore, I’m right here.”

Addison smiled at the little girl, “thanks but that’s not what I meant, I meant that I want to be married.”

The little girl scrunched up her nose, “I don’t think I’ll ever get married.”

Addison laughed, “You won’t say that when you’re older.”

“Mommy says boys are stupid and don’t ever keep their promises.”

“That’s not true of all boys.  There are good guys out there.”

The little girl thought for a moment then said, “Well than I would rather wait until I find one of the good ones.  And if I never find one then I’ll just live by myself forever and ever.”  She paused for a minute considering something then said, “My daddy ran away and never came back when I was just a baby.  My mommy got married when I was three and now they’re getting a divorce now mommy cries all the time when I asked why they didn’t just apologize and make up she said because she didn’t trust or love him anymore, but I think she’s lying because I still here her crying when she doesn’t think I’m listening.”

Addison sat there in speechless shock and then finally regained her composure, “That’s a lot for a little girl to carry by herself.”  She just nodded, so Addison continued, “you make my problem sound really small.”

The little girl laughed and to Addison it seemed like the sweetest sound she had ever heard, “mommy says that adult problems are always bigger than kid’s problems.” 

Addison grinned, “Well that’s not true in this case.”

The little girl looked over at a house across the street and hopped off the bench, “I should be going or mommy will get worried.”

Addison nodded and watched as she raced across the park, stopping for only a moment to look both ways before dashing across the street and disappearing inside a house.  Addison just sat there for a moment.  “God forgive me,” She whispered, “I’ve been so focused on being in a relationship that I haven’t been thinking clearly.  I almost set aside my purity but you’ve reminded me that it would cost me more to give myself away then it would cost to keep myself pure.” 

She stood up then and started the jog back toward her apartment once she got back inside she pulled up the online dating sight and hit the delete button, “God I’m going to trust you now.  I’m going to trust that you will bring the right guy my way when the time is right.  And give me other things to focus my attention on until that time.” 

 Did you know that Nataleigh's favorite movie is "To Save A Life"?!

Did you know that Gina's mom is also her best friend?!

Photograph property of Lilies Among Thorns Magazine. Photograph taken my Gina Vasquez.

It Was Crystal Clear to Me~ Haylie Gregory

I didn’t notice it sitting there. It was small and out of the way of any. How was I supposed to know it was so important? The only reason I noticed it was because the sunlight caught it as I was passing by. It was just lying there, unnoticed by all who passed. I picked it up and brushed off the snow that had rested upon it. It sparkled as the sunlight caught it once again. I twirled it around in my fingers, mesmerized by the way it cast a rainbow on the sidewalk. I had never seen an actual crystal before. Who knew that such a small, simple object, could behold so much beauty?

I tucked the crystal deep into my pocket and continued down the sidewalk. I could feel the crystal rubbing up against my leg as I quickened my steps to the coffee shop. I was anxious to escape the blistering cold, December weather. I, happily, opened the door to the coffee shop and ordered a caramel macchiato and a cinnamon bun, a little treat for a hard days work. I found a seat close to the fireplace and tried to warm myself.

Once I placed my bag on the floor, I reached into my pocket and retrieved the crystal. I stared at it, watching the flames from the fire glisten through the crystal. It made every bit of light seem much more radiant than it really was. It seemed magical.

 I placed the crystal down on the table when my coffee and cinnamon bun arrived. Wrapping my hands around the coffee cup, I lifted the cup to the tip of my nose, inhaling the scent of sweet caramel. My body was instantly warm. A few moments later, a short, pixie-like woman entered the coffee shop, followed by a tall, strong looking man. Both of their faces bore the same, sad look. They ordered their coffees and took the vacant seats a table away from mine. The women ran her fingers through her hair and rested her head on the palm of her hand.

“It’s okay, Jennifer,” the man said as he reach of her hand. “We’ll find it.”

Jennifer sighed as she intertwined her fingers in his. “Brian, we’ve been looking all day. It’s gone and I just have to accept it.”

“I think we should keep looking. I know how much that crystal means to you,” Brain said. He looked at her with such sweet compassion. You could clearly see that he cared for her.

“Yeah, it was my grandmother’s. She gave it to me just before she died. Grandpa Hamilton gave it to her as a wedding gift. I was hoping to wear it for our wedding. I just can’t believe I lost it.” Jennifer sank her head into her hands and let out another heart-breaking sigh.

I looked down at the crystal that sat on my table. The side of my lips curled up in a small smile. I knew the crystal was magical. I looked over at Jennifer and Brian and saw the magic there. It was true love.

I grabbed the crystal from the table and walked over to Jennifer and Brian’s table. They looked up at me, both looking very tired and cold.

“I’m sorry, but I overheard you two talking about a crystal and I wanted to ask if this was it,” I said as I extened my hand that held the crystal.

Jennifer’s face lit up. “Oh goodness! My crystal! Brain, look! It’s my grandmother’s crystal! Where did you find it?”

“Three blocks from here. It was buried underneath some snow. If the sun hadn’t caught it, you never would have been able to find it.” A huge smile covered Jennifer’s face, as well as Brian’s.

“Oh thank you! You have no idea how important this is to me!” Jennifer said, looking up at me through tear-filled eyes.

“I’m just glad it’s back to its rightful owner,” I said with a smile.

“How can we repay you?” Brain asked me, looking just as delighted as Jennifer.

“No need, just be sure not to lose it again.”

“Oh, trust me; I’m going to lock it away in my jewelry box until the day of the wedding!” Jennifer said laughing.

“Good idea and congratulations on the wedding!”

 With their many thanks, I left them to themselves and sat back down at my table. I couldn’t help but glance at Jennifer and Brain every now and then, looking much more cheery than when they walked in.

 I couldn’t help but think about how much more special Jennifer’s wedding was going to be, having her grandmother’s crystal around her neck. I wondered if she would have a daughter and pass the crystal down to her, along with the story of the day she thought she lost it forever. I then took a bite of my cinnamon bun, feeling delightful about how wonderful the day had turned out to be.

Did you know that Haylie has watched "White Christmas" over 5 times in one week?!
Did you know that Abby's favorite holiday is Christmas?!

Photographs property of Lilies Among Thorns Magazine. Photograph taken by Abby Whear.