August 18, 2006

As of 10:48 this morning, Jimmy is ten. His birthday celebration consists of a stack of superhero comics from the used book store and pizza his mom brought home from the restaurant where she works. It’s a little rubbery when reheated but tastes good. His mom sticks a candle in the middle and sings Happy Birthday in her best Aretha Franklin voice. Jimmy pretends he wants her to stop. He tells her he is too old to make a wish, but one pops into his head as he is blowing out the candle anyway. Jimmy wishes for a superpower of his own, and of course he knows it’s silly, but who’s to know? It’s not like superpowers are real. It’s not like anyone can read his mind.

October 2, 2006

Jimmy knows that putting metal in the microwave is stupid, but he is so busy reading his newest comic book that he doesn’t notice he left the fork on the plate. When the sparks start flying, he looks up just in time to see the full explosion. He holds the book out like a shield, but paper doesn’t offer much protection. Shards of metal and boiling hot food strike him in the face. The pain is all-consuming. Jimmy wonders if this is death and then, inconsequentially, how his mother will heat up her dinners without a microwave. His last emotion is embarrassment. He knows putting metal in the microwave is stupid.

October 3, 2006

Jimmy is shaken awake at 2:00 am by his frantic mother. He opens his eyes and the look of relief on her face is so overwhelming that he shuts them again. Her voice is loud in his ears, asking what happened. I died, he thinks, though this is obviously not true. His mother helps him sit up and they both look at the pile of shrapnel he was lying on. Jimmy remembers the hot metal passing through his body. There is no blood. Jimmy’s only pain is in his memory. On the floor with the rest of the wreckage is a shredded comic book. Jimmy can’t even read the title anymore. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I forgot the fork.” His mother is just glad that he’s okay.

January 23, 2007

Though he never speaks of it, Jimmy can’t stop thinking about the explosion. His mother bought a new microwave and a huge box of plastic forks. They laughed about it at the time, but when she’s not around Jimmy eats his food cold. He kept a handful of the shrapnel, which he has in an old lunch box under his bed. He takes it out almost every night and looks at it, wondering. Finally, he decides to try an experiment. None of the knives in the kitchen are sharp, but one still has a nice point to it. He stabs it into his hand. The pain is just as he remembered, but this time there is blood. Lots of blood. Jimmy cleans it up and wraps his hand in an old towel. When his mother comes home, he tell her that he fell at school while carrying a pencil.  She takes him in for stitches. It will take a few weeks to heal, the doctor says. It does, and Jimmy feels stupid for believing in birthday wishes. The night his bandages come off, Jimmy takes the lunch box full of shrapnel out from under the bed. He goes out back and throws it in the trash.

August 18, 2007

Jimmy is 11. This year, his mom has the day off, and she takes him bowling to celebrate. Jimmy’s mom used to bowl in a league. Tonight, she bowls a 235. Jimmy bowls a 98. She buys him ice cream to make up for beating him, but Jimmy never minds losing to her. When Jimmy’s mom ties her hair back and steps up to her lane, she smiles the smile he never sees any other time.  Even though they are in an ice cream shop, Jimmy’s mom puts a candle in his sundae and makes him blow it out. This year he does his best not to make a wish, but he can’t quite help it. It’s barely even a wish, more like an idle thought, that the world would be better if you didn’t have to outgrow birthday wishes.

October 2, 2007

He had planned to pretend that he didn’t notice what day it was, but at dinner time Jimmy finds himself standing in front of the new microwave. Tonight’s dinner is a burrito from the restaurant. Jimmy hates cold burritos. He presses the buttons. Nothing happens other than his food heating. Jimmy is glad no one is around to watch him dump the heated burrito in the sink. He’s not hungry anymore. He feels something he can’t name but it reminds him of the time his cereal box promised him a collectible Star Wars toy and there was nothing in it. Jimmy moves down the hall toward his bedroom and stops halfway. He leans his head against the wall in the dark. His head passes through it.

October 3, 2007

Jimmy has been walking through walls all night. When his mom comes home at 1:30 in the morning, he pretends to be asleep in bed, but as soon as she settles in with the TV on, he walks straight through his window and outside. It is chilly. He can feel the wind blowing right through him. Jimmy walks down the street to the huge oak on the corner. He steps inside the tree. It is warm here inside of the wood and out of the wind. None of this is possible, but Jimmy doesn’t question it. He walks on. He passes through iron fences and brick walls. He walks into the restaurant where his mother works. It is dark and quiet. He goes straight through the huge metal doors of the walk-in freezer. This has always been one of his favorite places. When he was little, he would stare at those rows and rows of food boxes and imagine they were all his. He considers taking one of the frozen hand pies. His clothes pass through the walls with him. He imagines that a pie in his pocket would, too. The idea of stealing something makes him feel lonely, though, so instead, he walks out through the back wall and down the alley. He passes through dumpsters, the awful smell temporarily chasing away the feeling that he’s in a dream. He walks right through his neighbors house, but when he sees their baby sleeping peacefully in its crib, he leaves again quickly. The sun is almost up when he slips through back wall of his house and into his own bed. He thinks he’ll never be able to fall asleep, but he does.

October 4, 2007

All day long, dragging his tired body through another day at school, Jimmy thinks about what he can do once he is alone at home. There is no place he can’t go. There is nothing that could hurt him. He thinks of the heroes in his comic books. He imagines what they would do. Rescue kidnapped children, maybe. Or steal back things that thieves have stolen. He wonders how you find kidnappers and thieves. Maybe he should sneak into the police station and read their files. After school, he checks that no one is looking and then doesn’t bother opening the front door. Instead he darts into it at full speed. His head hits the wood so hard, he sees stars as he stumbles backward. Immediately he feels a rush of anger, though he doesn’t know who is angry with. Slowly he puts a hand out and presses it against the door. He feels its solid surface under his palm. He can’t tell if this moment is a dream, or if the dream was last night. He stands there for a long time hoping the answer will come to him. Then he takes out his key and lets himself inside the house.

March 16, 2008

Jimmy has not walked through any walls since that one night. By now he’s pretty much convinced himself that night was a hallucination. He reads about post traumatic stress disorder. He can’t tell if that’s what he has, but it kind of makes sense. He doesn’t mention it to anyone else, though, just in case the real answer is that he’s crazy.

August 18, 2008

Jimmy is 12. His mother has to work late, but she leaves him a big piece of cake in the fridge with a note that says she loves him. There are no candles, but the cake is Jimmy’s favorite Boston cream. He eats it as slowly as he can and tries to be grateful that he doesn’t have to worry about wishing. 

October 2, 2008

Everything Jimmy has read about PTSD says that there are triggers for your reactions to your trauma. He figures the kitchen, and particularly the microwave, are his triggers, but just to be safe, he leaves the house altogether. His mom is working late again, so he goes to a coffee shop that is open until 10. He orders hot chocolate and sits in a corner. It’s quiet. Only two other customers are in the shop, a sappy couple fawning over each other on the leather couch. Jimmy tries not to look at them. The girl behind the counter is busy cleaning up. It’s almost time to close, and she wants to get home as soon as possible. Jimmy feels perfectly normal. Maybe it’s the calm coffee shop, or maybe he doesn’t really have PTSD. Maybe he just ate something weird last year and had some crazy dreams. Jimmy tips his chair back against the wall. He falls right through it and into the kitchen of the bakery next door.

October 3, 2008

Jimmy tries to be angry that this is happening again, but all he can feel is excitement. He slowly stands up in the darkness of the bakery and takes a deep breath of yeast and cinnamon. Dimly, by the light of the exit sign, he can see lumps of something delicious set out to rise for tomorrow.  Nothing has ever smelled so good, and he doesn’t think a dream would be so real. He stands perfectly still in the darkness and makes a plan to find out for sure. Ten minutes later, he walks straight through the cinder block walls of an apartment building. He is in a long hallway. The staircase at the end is blocked by a locked door, but that’s not a problem. Jimmy climbs to the eleventh floor. He listens carefully outside the door of 1103. Everything is quiet. Jimmy walks through the kitchen sink and through the tiny sofa and through the giant TV and into a small bedroom. A boy is sleeping on the narrow bed. Marco was Jimmy’s best friend in fourth grade. They don’t hang out as much anymore, but he’s still the only person Jimmy trusts not to get him in trouble. He shakes Marco awake. Marco isn’t too happy about it. “How’d you get in here?” He asks. Jimmy just shrugs. “I need the homework for social studies,” he says. Marco gives it to him, but not without calling him a few names first.

October 4, 2008

At school, Marco confronts Jimmy right away about last night’s visit. “That was creepy, dude,” he says. Jimmy apologizes. He pretends he’s flunking social studies and that this mom is mad about it. This is something Marco understands. He walks away, and Jimmy is left standing in the hallway with a grin on his face. He is solid again today. His ability is gone. But the social studies homework in his hand is proof that it will come back.

December 11, 2008

Jimmy has succeeded in getting accepted into a mentor program that matches police officers with at-risk youth. It wasn’t that hard to convince the director that Jimmy is at risk. Today he meets his new mentor, Officer Jackson, who takes him out for pizza and asks about Jimmy’s life. Jimmy shows a lot of interest in Officer Jackson’s job. He hints that he might like to be a cop someday. He asks if they ever do ridealongs. Officer Jackson is impressed by Jimmy’s respectful manner. He wants to encourage a kid like this. He promises him he’ll see what he can do.

April 30, 2009

By now, Jimmy is a regular at the police station. Officer Jackson is proud of him and all the other officers know him by name. Wanda, who covers the front desk, always keeps candy in her desk drawer just for Jimmy. No one will let him near anything important, but sometimes Jimmy is there when perps are brought in. He always listens carefully to what they say. A surprising number of them give up names and places just while mouthing off. Jimmy has a notebook in his backpack. The officers think it’s for school, but really he is keeping track of everything he hears. “That’s some kind of neat handwriting,” Officer Jackson says when he sees Jimmy writing in it. Jimmy snaps the notebook shut. “In a couple of years, we could probably find you a job in the file room or something,” says Officer Jackson. Jimmy tries to look like this offer means nothing.

August 18, 2009

In the kitchen, Jimmy’s mom is making pancakes for his birthday breakfast. When he stands next to her, they both notice for the first time that he is taller than she is. Jimmy’s mom jokes that this means it’s time for him to start making the birthday pancakes. When Jimmy tries to take the spatula from her, though, she swats his hand away. “I’m still the mom here,” she says, “and don’t you forget it, teenager.” Pancakes have never tasted so good. 

October 2, 2009

Jimmy has his plan in place. He’s discovered an old warehouse that a local fence uses to store stolen goods before he sells them. Jimmy also knows where one of the local chop shops is hidden. The police have long suspected that stolen cars are taken there, but they haven’t been able to get the evidence they need to bust the guy who owns it. Jimmy has black pants and a long-sleeved black tshirt. He has a dark ski mask to hide his face and black leather gloves for his hands.  He has an old digital camera he bought off of the Internet and a beat up bike he bought from a kid at school. He is all ready, but his mom has the night off, so he has to wait until she’s asleep. They spend the evening watching a Twilight Zone marathon, and Jimmy’s mom asks him eight times why he keeps jiggling his leg like a madman. She tells him they should make a Twilight Zone  episode about it. Jimmy doesn’t have to fake his laugh.

October 3, 2009

Jimmy’s mom falls asleep around midnight but he waits until one just to be safe. Now he slips out the back wall and around to the alley where he’s hidden the bike. In no time at all, he’s at the chop shop. He leaves the bike down the block and walks into the locked pawn shop next door. He passes silently through its garish displays and carefully sticks his head through the wall into the garage where the stolen cars are being disassembled. At least eight men are at work there, and at least four cars have been delivered tonight. Jimmy sees a place where he can come through the wall on the opposite side and hide behind some barrels to take his pictures. He gets shots of men’s faces, including the boss. He gets shots of the  cars and the license plates. He even sneaks back outside and takes outside shots. Then he heads across town to the warehouse. Jimmy takes more pictures here, but he also takes several pieces of expensive jewelry. He stuffs his pockets with them and then walks right out of the locked safe and hops on his bike.

October 4, 2009

Jimmy didn’t sleep at all last night, but he doesn’t feel tired yet. After school, he drops by the police station. The place is nearly empty. Wanda tells him about how a mysterious person left a disk full of pictures and a whole pile of stolen jewelry on the police chief’s desk. The pictures were enough evidence to arrest a whole ring of auto thieves and to bring in a local fence and confiscate his current stash. She says they’re pretty sure the fence will give up some of the thieves who work with him. “Who knew our city had a secret vigilante?” She says. “It’s like we have our own Batman.” Jimmy does not think he will feel tired for a long time.

November 13, 2009

It is hard to imagine waiting a whole year for October 2 to come around again. Jimmy has already started doing research on other criminals, but everything he finds out makes him want to do something now. He tries to come up with a plan that doesn’t rely on his ability, but everything seems impossible.  Jimmy stops going to the police station as often. It’s depressing to listen to the speculation about the secret vigilante. It’s depressing to be treated like a thirteen year old kid. It’s depressing to realize that for a whole year, that’s all he is.

August 18, 2010

Fourteen feels good. October seems closer now, and Jimmy has just heard of a serial kidnap case that he thinks he can help with. He spends the whole afternoon at the police station, and when his mom comes to get him, the officers bring out a cake. Everyone sings. Jimmy doesn’t hesitate as he blows out the candles. His wish has been in place for a while now.

September 24, 2010

The police just found a kid’s body. Jimmy feels sick. The kid had been missing for three weeks. It’s the fourth kid that’s been found dead, and there is still one girl missing. The police don’t know where she’s being kept, but they are working around the clock to find out. Jimmy can’t help but feel that if he had his abilities all the time, he could have stopped that kid’s death. He could be searching every house in town, walking through them all every night. Instead, he’s waiting, watching the police follow leads and try to get enough evidence for search warrants. The dead kid might give them more clues. If they can just get a general direction, Jimmy knows he can find the missing girl. He wills away the days until October 2.

October 2, 2010

The police say the boy had to have been killed near to where his body was found, but they have not yet found the kidnapper or the missing girl. Jimmy knows this could take all night, so he tells his mom that he’s sleeping over at a friend’s. She’s surprised, but she doesn’t question it. Jimmy is wearing all black again and his face is covered. He has a map and a flashlight and several protein bars in his pocket.  He goes up and down the blocks, slipping in and out of every floor of every house. He checks out all the businesses. He enters safes and freezers, basements and storage units. At first, he has to be very careful to check for occupants, but as it gets later, most people are asleep. He moves faster.

October 3, 2010

It is four in the morning when Jimmy drops down into the basement of an old house on the very edge of his search territory. A noise in the corner catches his attention, but he’s seen enough rats tonight to know better than to hope. He shines his light back and forth across the space. There in the corner is a pile of rags, and it is trembling. Two dark eyes stare back at him, terrified. Jimmy’s heart is pounding. He walks quietly across the cement floor and kneels down by the girl. She flinches away but the gag on her mouth keeps her from screaming. “It’s okay,” Jimmy says. “I’m going to get you out of here.” She presses herself into the corner, shrinking from his hands as he tries to untie her. Jimmy stops and takes off his mask. He watches her recognize that they are the same age. He unties her hands and lifts her up. Then he carries her up the stairs and straight through the locked door of her prison.

October 4, 2010

Jimmy knows that he should stay away, but he can’t help himself. As soon as it is light, he heads back to the police station where he had dropped the girl off just a few hours before. He walks up the sidewalk and sees her being loaded into an ambulance. She catches his eye, and he knows she recognizes him, but she doesn’t say anything. Her parents crowd around her, each holding one of her hands.  They have been crying. She has not. Inside the station, Jimmy hears the whole story of how the girl walked in the front door alone last night, telling of a masked rescuer who delivered her moments before. No one saw the man who saved her, but she had a piece of paper with an address. Together with her description of the kidnapper, the evidence is more than enough. They have already made the arrest.

December 28, 2010

It is easier to be patient this year, but Jimmy still feels depressed every time he hears of a crime he could have helped prevent. He remembers the eyes of the girl he rescued. He thinks of her every day. Her face is a talisman against the faces of victims he sees on TV. The ones he didn’t save. The ones he didn’t help. He knows the girl’s name now and where she lives, but he makes no attempt to see her. He hopes she can move on. He hopes she can forget.

August 18, 2011

As promised, the day Jimmy turns fifteen, he is officially given a job at the police station. It’s just copying and filing and delivering messages and making coffee, but for the first time, he has two things he’s needed for a while: access to information and a steady income. That night when his mom sings to him over his birthday pie, he doesn’t feel the need for any wishes.

September 30, 2011

Jimmy has been making preparations for weeks. Not only does he think he knows where some thieves have been hiding out, there is a young boy missing. He disappeared two days ago. The police suspect a family member, but they’ve searched the house of everyone on the list and found nothing. Jimmy is planning his own kind of search.

October 1, 2011

The police get a tip from a family member. They return to the house of the missing boy’s uncle. There is a secret room hidden behind the bathroom mirror. The boy is there. He was killed hours before the police arrive.

October 2, 2011

Prickling hot rage courses through Jimmy’s veins. His head feels like it will explode from it. He could have found that secret room in seconds. He could have saved that boy. He could have…if he could use his ability more than once a year. He leaves the house the minute it’s dark, without even giving his mother an excuse. He heads straight to the thieves’ hideout. It is empty. Judging from the food in the refrigerator and the trash left everywhere, they were here until this morning. Jimmy throws an empty beer bottle against the wall and it smashes loudly. He stands in the living room, surrounded by the smell of stale smoke, and realizes that he has no more leads. He will be able to walk through walls until the sun comes up again, but there is nowhere he needs to go.  What is the point of having a superpower if you can’t help people when they actually need it? What is the point of being special if you always arrive too late?

October 3, 2011

Jimmy wanders the city, entering buildings randomly until the pointlessness makes him sick. He wants to break something, but nothing seems worth breaking. Instead he goes home. His mom is sitting at the table. The worry on her face piles guilt on top of his anger and despair. She asks where he’s been, and when he says he’s just been walking, she believes him. He stands in the doorway and they look at each other for a long time. Neither of them says anything. Jimmy notices that she has wrinkles around her eyes that didn’t used to be there. The silence is broken when his mother starts coughing. “Get some sleep,” she says. “It helps more than you might think.” Jimmy doesn’t think that’s true, but he’s happy for the excuse to go to his room.

April 3, 2012

All winter, Jimmy was so lost inside his own head that he didn’t notice that his mother’s cough didn’t go away. Even now that it it’s getting warmer outside, she is coughing more than ever. She is watching the news and nearly hacking up a lung when he comes into the living room with their TV dinners. Even though she changes the channel right away, he still sees the report of a murder over on fourth street. Jimmy hasn’t made a secret of his hatred of the news. He doesn’t want to see all the horrible things that people are getting away with every day. He doesn’t want to know about what he can’t stop. He quit his job at the police station. He walks dogs in the neighborhood now. It doesn’t pay much, but it keeps him moving. Jimmy hates sitting still these days. His mom coughs again. “You should see the doctor,” he says, but his mind is still on the picture of that murder victim, so he doesn’t notice when she just shakes her head.

August 18, 2012

Jimmy is sixteen. He takes his mom out to dinner with his dog-walking money, and she says he’s quite a man now. She looks happy, but he also notices that she’s pale and she coughs her way through the grilled chicken she never finishes. After he blows out his candle, he tell her he wished she would see a doctor. He doesn’t let up until she promises she will.

September 13, 2012

October is coming, and once again Jimmy is making plans. His mother finally saw that doctor, and the diagnosis is lung cancer. They’ve known for a week now. Jimmy’s mom says he’s not to worry. She says she’s going to fight this, but he knows the truth. She can’t afford the treatments the doctor recommends. She has the cheapest insurance, and though they’ll cover the basics, she needs way more than that. She still goes to work six days a week, but ever since she saw the doctor, her cough seems worse. She tries to smile and tell him she’s fine, but he remembers what her real smile looks like.

October 2, 2012

It’s the easiest thing in the world to walk into the wall of the safe and pull the money off the shelf and back through the wall with him. He knows if he went all the way inside an alarm would go off, but this way he’s in and out in five minutes. One hundred thousand dollars makes a surprisingly small bundle. It fits in the oversized pocket of his winter coat. Jimmy walks through the closed businesses along the street until he is far enough away that it won’t matter if he’s seen. He keeps walking.

October 3, 2012

Coming here wasn’t a part of Jimmy’s plan. He thought he was just wandering, not ready to go home yet, but his feet have brought him to this old house. In the back yard, he sees that the cellar door has been jimmied open, but he still walks through the wall to get inside. She’s waiting there just as he knew that she would be, and she is not surprised to see him appear out of nowhere. She is older now, just as he is, and cleaner, and she is not afraid. Her hair is a mass of dark curls. They stare at each other for a long time. She only has one question. “Why me?” He feels the weight of every person he hasn’t saved in that question. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her she just got lucky. She was kidnapped at the right time of year. He says nothing. He drinks in the sight of her wide, unflinching eyes and tries not to think about the bundle in his pocket. Then he disappears through the wall and goes home.

November 21, 2012

Jimmy’s mother has started her treatments, and though they are awful, her coughing has all but stopped.  He told her that he set up an online funding account and that kind strangers have been donating to help her. The Internet is a wonderful place, he says. She insists on writing a long thank-you for him to post. He tells her the donors will love it. He checks the police investigation into the robbery on tenth street last month. They have no leads. There was no sign of negligence. No one lost their job. The bank was insured, of course. No one has lost anything.

January 14, 2013

The treatment was not enough. Jimmy’s mother improved for a while, but the cancer was too strong. She’s at home now, resting. She doesn’t go into work anymore. Jimmy brings her hot water and crackers and holds her hand while she coughs. When she thinks he’s going to school, he is actually working shifts at the hardware store down the street. They think he’s in a night school program. Actually, he hasn’t been to a class since before Christmas. He misses it, but the missing feels good.

March 4, 2013

It rains the day of his mother’s funeral. Jimmy stands there with some of the officers from the police station and a few waitresses from the restaurant. His umbrella keeps his head dry, but his pants and shoes are soaked. Wanda, the receptionist, stands next to him. She has told him he can come live with her and her two young sons. Her only condition is that he has to go back to school. He has agreed to this because he doesn’t want to leave the neighborhood and because it doesn’t seem to matter what he does now. When the service is over, Wanda tells him she’ll be waiting in the car and that he should take his time. Jimmy waits until he is all alone by the graveside. Then he takes a plastic fork from his pocket and drops it into the hole. When he turns around, he is face to face with a tall girl with steady eyes. He doesn’t question how she found him. She doesn’t say she’s sorry for his loss. She just stand there with no umbrella, the rain making rivers in her dark curls. “You want to know my secret?” she asks. When he doesn’t respond, she tells him anyway. “I stopped feeling sorry for myself.”

August 18, 2013

Wanda makes Jimmy a birthday cake, and her boys are so excited you would think it was their birthday. Jimmy eats a piece to make them happy. He opens the homemade card with a crayon picture of Superman and thanks the artist with some tickles. Then he goes to the coffee shop down the street where the girl with the dark hair is waiting with one candle in her hand. She makes him blow it out even though he says he doesn’t make wishes anymore. While the smoke is still curling up from the wick, the girl smiles and says she stole his wish since he didn’t want it. Then she shows him her notebook. As soon as he reads the first page, he snaps it shut and hands it back to her. She doesn’t take it. The notebook sits on the table, looking like someone’s homework, looking normal. “It’s one more night than anyone else has,” the girl says as she leaves. Jimmy doesn’t read the notebook, but he doesn’t leave it there, either.

October 2, 2013

Jimmy sits on the stairs that lead up to Wanda’s apartment. There is a composition notebook unopened on his lap. He isn’t looking at it. He’s looking at the street, where two little boys are playing soccer on the sidewalk. The youngest misses most of the time, swinging his foot on open air while the ball just sits, unmoved. Jimmy opens the notebook.

October 3, 2013

After a long night of work, Jimmy goes to the basement of the old house. The girl is not there, but he sits in the dark, in the far corner where he first saw her. He sits there so long, he is suddenly afraid that it has been too long, that the sun has come up and he’s trapped. He hurries outside just in time. When he gets home, the sun is already above the trees, and the girl is waiting on the steps. She’s holding a soccer ball, covered in dew from being left out all night. He stands on the sidewalk looking up at her. “It’s not nearly enough,” he says. She shrugs. It never is.

August 18, 2014

For Jimmy’s 18th birthday, the officers at the precinct chip in to buy him his own laptop. “You’re a whiz with the computer now,” they say when they present it to him. “You’re going to need this in college.” They all slap him on the back while Wanda passes around pieces of cake. None of them have any idea what he plans to do with their gift. Late at night, he sits at the kitchen table. The girl with the dark curly hair sits across from him. They are not applying to colleges, as Wanda thinks. Jimmy is quietly hacking into the police database. The girl is taking notes on what he finds. All these months later, she has eight full notebooks. No one knows more about their city than these two. And the girl is endlessly creative in thinking of ways to use the information.

October 3, 2014

The police station is buzzing with activity. When the day shift arrived, they found the evidence room crammed with unregistered guns. They found lockers full of illegal drugs. Each was tagged with the address where it was found and several have photos attached and one even has a voice recording of a very incriminating conversation. None of this will be admissible in court, but it’s enough information to fuel their investigations for weeks. The night shift never saw anyone come in here. Something shorted out the cameras, too. Down the street at the homeless shelter and soup kitchen, the director has just discovered a stack of cash in his donation box. Across town, the runaway shelter has a similar stack right in the middle of the kitchen counter. The ER at the hospital has an envelope on the reception desk with a small handwritten note. On another street in another part of town, a drug lord is systematically beating his employees to find out who stole from him. There was no break in.  It had to be an inside job. At the tenth street bank, there is a neat stack on the shelf in the vault. It’s exactly 100,00 dollars.

August 18, 2015

Jimmy is moving out of Wanda’s apartment, and her boys stand around, shifting from foot to foot while he zips up his duffle bag. He gives them each a fist bump and a $10 bill. He’ll see them again soon. He’s only moving a few blocks away, to be closer to school.  He’s already promised Wanda to come by for dinner once a week. Jimmy got accepted to four different colleges, but he chose the one that’s right here at home. He’ll study computer science. He’ll still work at the police station. Before he leaves, Wanda sits him down and puts a blueberry pie on the table. It has one candle in it. She and the boys sing Happy Birthday off key, and when he leaves, she makes him take the leftover pie with him. He takes the candle, too. Someone else gets all his wishes now.

October 2, 2015

Jimmy is dressed and ready to go long before it’s dark. He has the plan mapped out of four sheets of notebook paper, and his room is full of supplies. He opens the front door, and the girl is waiting outside, wearing all black. Jimmy raises one eyebrow. The girl shrugs. “We already know you can carry me through walls,” she says. Jimmy thinks of all the possible dangers but he also thinks of having an extra pair of hands. It’s just so much work to do in one night. And if he’s being honest, most of the ideas are hers anyway. “If I’m carrying you, you’ll have to take the pack,” he says. She turns around and lets him slip it onto her shoulders.

August 18, 2016

As of 10:48 this morning, Jimmy is twenty years old. His birthday dinner consists of pepperoni pizza with olives on one half only. The girl sticks a candle in the middle and sings Happy Birthday, and when she finishes he waits patiently. She always takes her time. She likes to think things through. Finally, she blows out the flame, and though she doesn’t tell him what she wished for, he knows anyway. He also knows that it will come true. His birthday wishes always do.

I was in my room reading. (Because I was eleven, and at age eleven, I was always in my room reading.) 

“Want to come outside and do something with me?” my big brother asked, like the book in my hands wasn’t already an answer to that question.

Glance out the window. It looks hot. “Like what?” 

“I was thinking of maybe building a miniature golf course.”

Intriguing. But also, hot. And also experience tells me grandiose plans are not necessarily going to become a reality. Whereas the unlikely band of misfits in this book are very real and most definitely going to save their kingdom through courage and friendship and a little bit of magic. (It was probably a band of misfits. I don’t really remember, but there was inevitably a band of misfits and some kind of sorcerer.)

“Nah.”

“Okay.”

It was a little surprising that he didn’t try to talk me into it. He usually tried to tempt and tease me to bend to his will. It usually worked. (I should have known the lack of bluster meant a more serious plan was in motion, but I hadn’t yet learned that correlation.)

The misfits did their thing. I was very happy in some other world. But not quite enough to ignore the noises happening in my world. Something was definitely going on in the front yard. I peeked out.

My brother was hard at work. Bricks from the random pile in the back yard were laid out. Toys and sticks were arranged as obstacles. Cups were put out to catch the golf balls. It really was a miniature golf course. The neighbor kids were already watching. There was a buzz in the air. I felt a little bit like I was missing out on something great, but not quite enough to do anything about it. I was needed elsewhere. The misfits were on the verge of a breakthrough.

Another half hour. Now there was laughing and shouting coming from out front. I peeked out again. The neighbor kids were playing the course, putting around with my dad’s old golf clubs while my brother stood on and watched…and collected the money. He was charging them a dollar each to play the course. (He was always brilliant like that.) Now I knew for sure I had missed my window. No way he would let me play for free. No way I was paying a dollar to putt around some bricks. It sure did look like a good time in the front yard, though. There was nothing I hated more than missing out on a good time.

I rejoined my misfits with much less enthusiasm. 

That’s when my brother came back. He couldn’t have picked his moment better if he had planned it. (He may have planned it. More likely he had just gotten bored…because he literally has the ability to become bored by how easy it is to make money.) 

“Want to make some money?” He asked, waving the stack of ones in his hand.

I did, in fact, want to earn money, mostly because you can buy books with money.

“How?” I said as casually as I could.

“I built the golf course like I said, and the kids are all playing. They’re paying a dollar per game. I’m kind of tired from standing out there, though. If you go collect the money and watch over the game, I’ll give you a quarter of each dollar they pay.”

“Only a quarter?” I’m a little sister, which is undeniably synonymous with sucker, but I do have some standards.

“Well, it is my golf course. It was my idea. I put all the work into building it. But I guess I could give you fifty cents.”

Ha. Half the money and an excuse to go join the fun. Who’s the sucker now? (It’s still me, but I’m 11. Give me a break.)

I took the deal. I stood in the heat for an hour or so, until the neighbor kids slowly lost interest or ran out of money or both. I made about three dollars. It wasn’t all that much fun, either. These were my brother’s friends, and I wasn’t a part of their game. I got bit by a lot of mosquitos.

This is what happens when you don’t get in on the ground floor of a new enterprise.  

Also, this: my mom came home with the groceries. “Kids, clean up that mess in the front yard before dinner.”

“We will, Mom,” my brother called, appearing from out of nowhere. “It won’t take us long,” he reassured me. There was no more mention of it being his golf course. Fifty-fifty was now the name of the game.

We carried bricks to the back yard. We stacked cups and returned clubs to the garage. The golf course was just a pile of old junk again. 

“Sweet. Made $15 dollars on that,” my brother said, pocketing the cash. 

I looked down at my three and scratched my mosquito bites and reflected that some of us were born to make money and laugh with the neighbor kids and some of us were born to miss out. I shrugged off the blip of resentment and went back inside. It’s all right. This is how misfits are made and why they end up banding together. 

And it’s a good thing they do, or who would save the world from evil sorcerers?

Thanks for the lesson in economics, big brother, and for helping me know who I am.

So hey! Yeah. It’s been a while. I was humming along, focusing hard on Book 5 of The Book of Sight and diving into our usual busy spring schedule and then BOOM, my son got what we thought was the stomach flu but turned out to be appendicitis. Before we even knew what had happened, they were telling us his appendix had ruptured and we were moving into the hospital for a 9-day stay, followed by several weeks of at home recouperation. So yeah, it’s been a while.

The good news is that my boy is up and around and back to school! He’s 10 pounds skinnier and a little weak still, but he’s going to be just fine. Turns out he’s a pretty tough kid. I could not be more grateful. And here I am, back to work again, trying to pick up the threads of the book and of the rest of my unfinished thoughts. I’m looking through my half-written posts. There’s a great one about the books I’ve been reading this year. Can’t wait to share it with you because there are some really fun books on that list. There’s a funny little poem that I think will tickle your fancy if I can ever get it wrapped up. But for today, I don’t have organized or light-hearted. I have this, which I wrote on accident when I was trying to write something for the book. 

Did you know you can accidentally write something? Ten years ago, I would not have thought that was possible. But it is. It makes me cringe a little, but I’ve decided to share my accident with you because I think it’s time we made contact again, and after all the ups and downs of the last several weeks, this is what I’ve got.  So here you go, my attempt to get back to work. The accidental story.

Once a child was given a choice, to travel the world with her father as he worked or to stay in a cozy home under her grandmother’s care. The child knew that either choice offered love but that neither choice offered perfection. She felt safe and content in her grandmother’s house, surrounded by the friends she had always known but never doing anything outside of her routine. A life with her father would be full of adventure and she would see the world from one end to the other, but he would be her only constant companion and often she would be alone. In the end it was neither security nor adventure that enticed her into making her choice. It was only that when the moment came, she could not bear to be parted from the man that was king in her heart.

Once a girl was given a choice, to marry a wealthy young businessman who could offer her the luxuries of the world or to marry a talented young artist who could offer her the beauty of his imagination. The girl knew that either choice offered her a bright future and that neither choice offered perfection. The businessman was kind and attentive and intelligent though he had little care for her frequent flights of fancy. The artist was brilliant and passionate and romantic though he was certainly quite poor and often distracted by his work. In the end, it was neither beauty nor wealth that swayed the girl’s mind. It was only that when the moment came, she could not bear to be parted from the genius who had stolen her heart.

Once a young mother was give a choice, to accept a position at a famous art institute alongside her husband or to turn the job down to have days at home with her new child. The mother knew that either choice offered a kind of success and that neither choice offered perfection. The teaching position would inspire her and bring attention to her name but would also mean long hours of work away from those she loved. Remaining at home would be a satisfying and contented life but one that was often dull and would neglect some of her own gifts. In the end, it was neither inspiration nor duty that swayed the mother’s mind. It was only that when the moment came, she could not bear to be parted from the little man who had filled up her heart.

Once a woman was given a choice, to fight against the disease raging through her body or to numb herself to the pain of it as it took control. The woman knew that either choice offered difficulty and heartache and also that neither came with guarantees. If she chose to fight, her mind would be clear but she would suffer much pain and still might lose in the end. If she chose to submit, she could be at peace but the separation from the world would come all the quicker. In the end, it was neither the hope of victory nor the fear of pain that made up her mind. It was only that when the moment came, she could not bear to parted from the men who held her hands and her heart.

Once a woman was given a choice. To be wrenched from her heart in bitterness and despair or to say goodbye to her heart with longing but no regret. The woman knew that either choice would be the most painful loss she could imagine and that neither could be taken back once made. If she held on tight until her life was torn away, she might be strong in the end and yet the damage left behind might be permanent. If she let go gently, the hole in her chest might go unrecognized, but the heart she handed over would be whole. In the end, it wasn’t her anger or her fear that made her decision. It was only that when the moment came, she realized she had parted with her heart long ago, and there was really no choice at all.

  
If I share it with you on January 4 of 2016, it’s not THAT late. Plus, I squeezed one in there on that last day of the year, so here we go!  You can see the first two installments of 2015’s books here and here.

Remember! These are not all recommendations. In fact, it was a pretty blah year of books for me in general. But I’m going to the effort of finding links for the books I think you ought to check out. The others get a passing mention…

• Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple – Well-written and pretty interesting read. Contemporary sort of YA, with a nice look at a complicated mother/daughter relationship and ultimately at being exceptional in an ordinary world. Didn’t change my world, but I enjoyed reading it.
• Cinder by Marissa Meyer – Not bad. YA distopian Cinderella story. Pretty interesting world, pretty solid characters. But somehow I just never did get into it. Maybe someday I’ll read the rest of the series? But it wasn’t compelling enough to hunt them down.
• All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr – This is as good as everyone says it is. It’s just not my thing. Historical fiction of the serious, war-torn Europe variety. I forced myself to finish it out of respect for the wonderful characters and the tapestry he wove with them. It had some lovely moments, but still somehow didn’t lodge in my heart. Probably a me problem.
• Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee – This is better than you’ve been told. You have to think of it as a totally different novel than Mockingbird and just enjoy it for what it is. It’s not the best book ever written (That’s probably Mockingbird.) but it’s got its own genius. I absolutely LOVED the first half, one of the best coming home accounts I’ve ever read. The second half gets lost in a lot of talk about people’s thoughts, but it sheds some interesting light on how people actually thought. I was glad I had the chance to read it.
• 24 Girls in 7 Days by Alex Bradley – Ridiculous contemporary YA about your typical geek boy trying to figure out life and also score a date. The main character was like able enough that I read the whole book. The plot was barely worthy of the word, but I don’t think it was meant to be. There’s really nothing else to say about this book.
• Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell by Susanna Clark – This book is genius. Seriously, it’s a massive commitment, but you should make it. A book about the 18th Century, written in the 21st Century, but in a style that makes you feel like you’re reading Dickens. Almost. Because it’s so much better. Real magicians. Real magic. Real history. Except not, obviously, because magic. Its tone is delightfully playful, and Jonathan Strange is the most wonderful character I’ve met in years. After you’ve read it, watch the miniseries. It’s a lovingly accurate rendition.
• The Bears’ Famous Invasion of Sicily by Dino Buzzati (readers’ guide by Lemony Snicket) – This is apparently an actual old book originally written in Italian. It is about exactly what the title says it is about, and therefore is the most wonderfully weird little book you can imagine. It only takes about an hour to read, and it’s worth it for the poems and the illustrations alone. The whole thing is absurd and funny, and if you can find it, you should spend an hour on it. You won’t be sorry.
• The Last Dragonslayer by Jasper Fforde – Super fun and clean YA about an alternate version of magical England and a girl who is NOT magical, but rather a manger of magicians. I listened to the audio book, which I think was the best way to ingest this. I’m afraid some of the jokes wouldn’t have been funny if they hadn’t been read in the proper way. As it was, it was hilarious and fun, and you should check it out for your kids. There are sequels I haven’t read. Mostly because I’m waiting to find the audiobooks. 
• The Queen of the Tearling by Erika Johansen – I wanted to like this book. I sort of did. Strong female lead. Interesting world with some mysterious connection to the real world. I wanted to find out more about that. So I finished the book and started on the sequel. But then it just kept getting darker and weirder, and I just didn’t want to read it anymore. So. Sadly, not a recommend.
• Ross Poldark by Winston Graham – My dip into historical fiction of the slightly more romantic variety. Still more history than romance, thankfully. I liked it. The main characters were contrary and the author manages to keep out a lot of the modern day sensibility that usually makes these things boring or irritating. It has a full complement of interesting characters, and is about a point in history I knew nothing about, so that was a bonus. I plan to look into more by the author.
• Everything, Everything by Nicola Yoon – Contemporary YA about a girl raised in a bubble due to her medical condition. All the expected yearning for a real life, and then the new neighbor boy next door.  Nothing world-changing, but not bad as the genre goes. The end was a cheat, though. I don’t know how I wanted it to end, but what the author did robbed the rest of the book. So, this one goes on the No pile.
• Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge – an alternate rebelling of Beauty and the Beast. Sort of interesting main character and sort of interesting world. Ultimately not all that, though, and just enough sexy stuff that I wouldn’t give it to my daughter. Which was disappointing. I’m always looking for good fairytale rebelling a for my kids. This one didn’t make the cut.
• Dreamer’s Pool by Juliet Marillier – I’m a big fan of Marillier, have read most of her stuff. This one is strictly mystery solving in her usual old Celtic world. I really liked it. It was different and interesting, and though I’m not a huge fan of mystery, the development of the (strictly platonic) relationship between the two main characters was enough to keep me hooked.
• The Court of Fives by Kate Elliot – YA fantasy. Pretty good. I’ll probably eventually read the sequels because I like the genre and it was decently well written. Otherwise, though, not much to say about it. 
• The Empress Game by Rhonda Mason – Sci-fi, strong female lead, spaceships, other planets, alien politics, and a tournament in which women fight women. So. Yeah. It was alright. I read most of it on the NY subway, so it now has a weird place in my heart, but as a book, it’s not much.
• Defy and Ignite by Sara B Larson – More YA fantasy, this time about a girl who has pretended to be a boy and is one of the Prince’s guards. You get the idea. I read both books, but honestly, though they’re readable, they were a bit boring. I haven’t picked up the third book yet.
• Lost Stars by Claudia Gray – This is a YA novel set in the Star Wars universe. I read it for obvious reasons. It was a little overly simplistic, but I was really excited for the new movie, so it was fun to read. It did have a little sex in it, though it wasn’t the main focus, so I didn’t pass it on to my kids.
• My True Love Gave to Me edited by Stephanie Perkins – A collection of short stories by a lot of romance authors, all little love stories set around the holidays. It’s not my usual thing, but after such a long string of mediocre YA fantasy/scifi stuff, it was a really nice read. Just what I needed in the rush of the last few weeks.
• Bird Box by Josh Malerman – This is straight up end-of-the-world horror, but it’s not as graphic as most, and it is eery and thoughtful and really cool. It’s short. I read it in only a couple of days, and I really enjoyed it. It had creepy elements but wasn’t that scary to me because it felt more like a study in what-if than an actually plausible scenario. Not a bad way to end the year.

We did it! We did Christmas. For better or for worse, it’s done, and now we can move on. Are you ready?

Just now, I’m giving myself permission to think about the new year. Not The New Year. Just the new year. I have some fun things for you. My completed book list from 2015. This last six months of reading was pretty blah, but I think I may have found THE book of the year just yesterday. I’ll let you know. I found the best storytelling game for kids. And I have a weird host of weird ideas for new stories and poems. We’re going to make January silly and fun, no matter how gross it is outside.

In the meantime, I’ll share with you what I was working on last week (besides last-minute shopping and wrapping and cookie consuming).  

Nate was asked to speak at our church on Sunday, and since we like nothing better than a chance to work together, he asked me to do some storytelling as a part of his message. It was so much fun. I think sometimes we forget that the stories in the Bible are stories. But when we remember, they are even more powerful. These particular stories are all about what happened AFTER Christmas. First, what I wrote when I was figuring the stories out, then the podcast of the actual storytelling, which wasn’t a reading, so it takes its own course. 

—————

She had the baby.

From the moment the angel came to see her, she had thought of nothing but that day. The Birth. And now it had happened.

It was a wild night. Breathing through contractions in the barn. Trying to focus on the smell of the animals, on the feel of Joseph’s hand, on the sounds of a city packed full of people. Trying to focus on anything but the pain.

And then the baby came. Her son. Her little boy.

 And he was perfect. And she was filled with joy as she wrapped him tightly and laid him in the only available bassinet, the animals’ feeding trough.

She watched him lying there asleep, and that’s when it hit her. This was only the beginning. This day she had planned for and prepared for and wished for and feared. This was only the first day. Now she had to raise a son. THE son.

How on earth…?

There was barely time to feel overwhelmed before the shepherds showed up with their story of angels and bright lights and words of hope. They were so excited. Their excitement was contagious, and her fears receded as she listened to them talk and watched the awe on their faces as they looked down at her child. How could her heart be heavy when God had sent hosts of angels to greet their son? When he wanted the whole world to know that this night was good news of great joy for all people?

So she tried to hold on to that moment. To tuck it away in her heart and remember exactly how their faces shone, exactly how Joseph smiled, exactly how certain and secure she felt.

Because after a while they left, went out into the city to tell everyone what had happened, and then Mary and Joseph were just two people in a barn with a baby, trying to catch a few precious hours of sleep in between feedings. And in the quiet darkness of a 3 am feeding, the fears crept back in. The feeling of inadequacy. And a vague dread she couldn’t even put a name to.

The days and weeks passed. She got used to the uneven rhythm of feeding a baby and changing him and cuddling him to sleep. Joseph finally found them a house to stay in, and they moved out of the barn. He picked up odd jobs and they made ends meet.

 The shepherds came back to visit from time to time. She was always glad to see them. They reminded her of her happiest moment, her most peaceful time. The heaviness in her heart didn’t go away, though. It was always with her, and sometimes the shepherds and their blissful excitement grated on her nerves a little. They seemed to think that now that the Messiah was here everything was going to be miraculously transformed.

But Mary had to change the baby’s diapers, and every time she did, she couldn’t help thinking that it was a long way from here to a new world of freedom for her people.

Finally the time came when the law said they needed to go to the temple to present their first born son to God, a reminder that all firstborns were his. They would do the offering for her purification, too. She was finally healed up, on her feet, and back to normal, or at least as close to it as she would ever be. So they went.

 Jesus was nearly six weeks old.

Traveling with a baby wasn’t easy, but the journey felt significant, and after so many days of endless repetitive tasks, it was good to feel that they were doing something important.

Walking into the temple of God with the Son of God in her arms made Mary tremble all over. Joseph was a steady presence by her side, but she could sense his emotion as well.

No one else seemed to notice anything, though. They were just one more young couple with a new baby to be processed. Another task in a busy day for the priests and temple workers.

Then, as they crossed the temple courts, an old man came over to them. He wasn’t wearing the robes of a priest, but he had wisdom and righteousness written all over his face. The moment he looked into Mary’s eyes, she knew that he knew.

His face was full of joy.

With trembling hands, he reached out for her baby, and even though it made her a little nervous, she handed the boy over. The old man cradled Jesus in his arms and began to praise God.

She would never forget his words:

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you may now dismiss your servant in peace.

For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all the nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.”

Mary felt a thrill of wonder pass through her. It was another perfect moment, a beautiful confirmation that all the Angel had said was true. Her little Jesus really was the Messiah, the Son of God, and God was going to work everything out.

Once again, she tried to tuck this moment into her heart, remembering how quickly her peace had faded after the shepherds left.

And then the old man met her eyes over the head of her baby, cradled in his arms. He held his look steady, and his face was full of compassion as he said, “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul, too.”

Mary felt as if the piercing had already begun. The vague dread that had hung over her since this started crystallized into a horrible understanding.

Her son was born to set her people free. Which meant that for every person who loved him, someone else would hate him. And those would be the people in power.

Her baby was six weeks old, and already she knew she would have to face the worst thing any mother could face. She was going to have to watch her son suffer.

* * * * *

Anna had been a widow for so long, she could barely remember any other life.  

She knew she had been a child once, simple and carefree. She knew she had been a young wife, full of hope. But both of those seemed like other people, perhaps people she had heard about in a story.

The hope had been cut short. Her husband had died after only a few years of marriage, and she had been left with no one.

The obvious thing to do would have been to get married again. To have kids. To lead a normal life as a normal part of the community, but that never happened.

Instead she went often to the temple, to worship and to pray. To talk to the people who came through its courts.

At first many times a week. Then every day. Then she would stay all day.

The woman who had no family, no true home of her own, took the people of God as her family, made the temple of God her home.

And the years went by. And she lived and lived and lived. Days and weeks and months of being all alone, and yet never alone, becoming less and less like other women her age.

Eighty-four years later, she was one of a kind, and she never left the temple at all. She just stayed there, day and night, worshipping, fasting, praying, listening to God.

And she had started to hear him pretty clearly by now.

Everyone knew she was a prophet. That she could see clearly how the commands and promises of God applied to right now. People listened to her, and by now even came to her to ask her about their lives.

These people that had become her family now looked to her to fulfill an important role. She was no one’s mother but everyone’s grandmother, old and wise and full of God’s words.

The day the baby Messiah came into the temple, held in his mother’s arms, was the absolute crowning moment of her long, strange, wonderful life.

Her dear friend Simeon, who knew he would live to see the Messiah born, was the first to spot the little family. When he held that baby in his arms and gave him his blessing, Anna’s eyes filled with tears. She knew how much this moment meant to him. So many times they had talked about the hope that was coming. She knew the joy he felt, and the freedom. Now he was free to go, to stop waiting endlessly and go to his peaceful rest. Anna was eighty-four years old. She felt in every one of her bones how much he longed for that, and she thought her heart would burst with happiness for her friend.

And then she looked around at the temple full of people. Those who worked there. Those who had just come for the day, to fulfill the law, to worship their God.

Her family.

And now the hope of her family had come. The one who would give her loved ones freedom. The one who would save her people.

She gave thanks to God with all her heart.

And then she couldn’t help herself. She went up to everyone who was there and told them the good news. They had all come to this place for the same reason. They were looking for redemption.

She just had to tell them that their redemption was here. Today. With them. In this same place.

She just had to tell them that their family was now complete.

* * * * *  

For all his fears and for all of the craziness of those early years, raising Jesus had turned out to be way easier than Joseph had expected.

I mean, the beginning had definitely been rough.

The baby phase. The crying. The sleeplessness. They had experienced the startling visit of the three kings, and then had fled in fear to Egypt while hearing of massacres back home. They had lived as foreigners there, trying their best to navigate a strange country.

But in time, they had heard the news that they were safe. They had gone home, not just to their temporary home in Bethlehem, but all the way home to Nazareth. They had built a house, settled down, had other children.

For several years now, life had been almost…normal.

And all this time Jesus grew. He was healthy and strong. He was obedient to his parents and kind to his younger brothers. He was a good boy.

And so smart. The things he said! Joseph never had more interesting conversations with anyone than he did with his son.

Everyone in town spoke well of the boy. It was hard to criticize a child who was so good to everyone.

They had always told him who he really was. He seemed to accept it as a matter of course, but he never tried to act like a king. He never demanded things of his mother. He never disrespected his father. He never looked down on his brothers.

It seemed like those rough early days were behind them.

Joseph could tell when he looked in Mary’s eyes that she never stopped worrying. His fears never completely went away either. But they did rest.

The more he knew his adopted son, the more years that passed with the boy behaving just as he should, the more Joseph relaxed. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as daunting as he had thought.

He worked hard to train the boy right. They read the law. They followed the law. Every year they went to Jerusalem for the Passover.

The year the boy was twelve, they traveled to Jerusalem just like they always had. It was a good time, just like it always was. Many of their relatives and other people from their town were with them. It was a joyful group.

At the end of their time there, they all traveled home together, talking over everything they had seen and done in the city. Joseph didn’t see Jesus walking near him, but that wasn’t unusual. He was probably with his cousins or his friends from the village. He was well-liked among the other boys.

It wasn’t until they camped that night that Mary came to him with a worried look on her face. She couldn’t find Jesus anywhere. Joseph tried to calm her down. He went with her to ask the others where Jesus had gone.

But no one had seen him. No one had walked with him. Their blank faces told the truth pretty clearly.

The boy had been left behind in Jerusalem.

Mary came unglued a little, not that Joseph could blame her. The boy was strong and smart, but Jerusalem was a big city, full of strangers, and he was only twelve.

This kid was their most important responsibility. How had they just lost him?

Mary insisted that they head back right away, no resting. They needed to get back to the city even if it meant traveling all night.

Joseph agreed, though he planned to talk her into a few hours of sleep later. She couldn’t go forever without rest.

They left the other children with their relatives.

The traveled as long as they could, slept a little, and then walked on until they arrived back in the city.

The first place they looked was the lodging where they had stayed. No one had seen Jesus since the group left.

Then they visited every place they had been that week.

Then they visited every person they knew in the city.

No one had seen him.

He was nowhere.

Three days of searching. Two nights of unsuccessfully trying to rest. Still, they hadn’t found him.

By now, Mary was a complete wreck. Exhausted. Terrified. Full of shame at her failure as a mother.

Nothing he said helped at all.

There was nothing to do but keep looking.

That third day they went to the temple. Maybe Jesus had gone there. If not, at least they could take a few minutes to pray that he was safe.

When they walked into the temple courts, they saw him immediately. Not dirty and disheveled and hungry as they had feared to find him. Just sitting calmly, obviously well-fed and safe, talking seriously with the teachers of the law who were gathered there.

Joseph could see the looks of amazement on the faces of everyone who was listening to the boy. He knew what they were feeling. He had felt that sense of wonder when he had discussed the law with Jesus. As they approached someone asked a question, and Jesus’s answer was astonishing.

Mary didn’t seem to see any of this. The second she saw her son, she choked back a sob and stumbled toward him.

He didn’t notice her until she broke through the circle of men and threw herself on him.

“How could you do this to us!? Why have you treated us this way? We’ve been searching for you!”

Jesus looked surprised. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t look ashamed. He did hug his mother, but the tone of his voice when he answered her was almost reprimanding.

“Why were you searching for me? Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”

Just as if everything was perfectly clear to him, and he couldn’t see why it wasn’t clear to them, too.

But it wasn’t clear. In Joseph’s mind a good son stayed with his parents. If he had to go somewhere, he thoughtfully told his mother where he was going. He didn’t put her through the anguish that Mary had suffered these days.

In that moment all Joseph’s dreams that this would be easier than expected disappeared.

The boy was good. He was respectful and obedient. But he had his own agenda.

Maybe his parents could count on his kindness, but they couldn’t count on him to be predictable. They could teach and train him, but they couldn’t control him.

They went home that night, and Jesus went with them. He was obedient as always. But there was no taking back those three days.

There was no forgetting what they all knew so clearly now.

He was their son, but he had another Father, too. And like his true Father, his ways were not their ways.

He was beyond them.

———

You can listen to the podcast here.

Hope you get to soak up a bit more holiday cheer this week before heading back into normal on Monday. We’re going to see Star Wars for the fourth time tonight (come on, you’re not surprised) and then partying it up on Thursday with a bunch of friends (and by partying, I probably mean playing a board game until the ball drops and then clinking glasses and going to bed). 

I’ll meet you here with the book list later this week!

John and Michael loved their toys.

John’s favorites were the cars. He had tiny little toy convertibles and wind-up race cars and even a monster truck that could drive over the top of the other cars. The pride of his collection, though, was a remote control Indy car. It was bright yellow with a red stripe down the side and could take corners at high speed. John had saved up all his money to buy that car, and he took good care of it. His dad, who loved how happy John was when he was playing with these toys, encouraged him to keep collecting cars, and he showed him pictures of engines and explained how they worked and which models of cars had the best engines. Many of John’s favorite moments were taking apart his model cars with his dad and learning how to put them together again.

Michael’s favorites were the airplanes. Anything that could fly fascinated him. He collected prop planes and jets, helicopters and even a blimp. His favorite was a remote controlled model of the original Wright Brothers airplane. His father gave it to him for Christmas, and he kept it safe on a high shelf, only taking it down to fly it when the weather was perfect. On those days, though, he would stay outside from morning to night, flying his airplane and learning to make it do tricks. Often his dad would join him on those days, loving every minute of Michael’s happiness with the toy he had given him.  The hours spent with his dad flying his plane were the best of Michael’s childhood.

John and Michael grew up. Their toys became more sophisticated with time, and they learned new ways to enjoy them. In their teen years, they learned to build the more difficult models. They spent hours building miniature engines that really worked. They collected rare editions. Their dad continued to encourage them in their pursuits, knowing that these toys were excellent preparations for the future.

Finally the boys turned 18, and their father had prepared a special surprise for them. For John it was a car of his own, a classic that would need some work to be in pristine condition but was drivable and had a wonderful history. For Michael, it was the lease of a small prop plane and a series of flying lessons. Their dad was so excited when the day finally came that he could take them outside and show them their gifts. He had been waiting so long for them to be old enough to really drive and really fly, and he couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces the first time they did.

The morning of their birthday arrived. John and Michael were both up early, working on their latest models and speculating about what new models their dad would have bought them to celebrate. When he came in and asked them to step outside, though, the boys were confused. They asked their dad to just bring the presents into their playroom. They didn’t want to leave the projects they were working on, and this room was the most comfortable for opening presents anyway. Their dad just grinned and said they really had to come outside to see their presents. It took some convincing, but finally they agreed to come and take a look.

Their dad held his breath as John and Michael came out of the house and saw the car and the plane parked on the front lawn. He waited for their shouts of excitement and glee. Instead, the boys’ faces fell. They mumbled a thank you but neither boy moved toward his amazing new gift. After an awkward moment, the dad asked what was wrong. The boys were a little ashamed to admit the truth, but since their father had always been so understanding, they finally told him. 

“This car is old and rusty,” John said. “My models are so much more collectible.”

“But you can actually get in this one and drive!” His dad said.

John just shrugged and looked longingly back toward the house where his shiny collection waited.

“That plane looks dangerous,” Michael said in his turn.

“But I have the best teacher to show you how to fly it,” his father said, “and you’ll get to actually soar through the air!”

Michael shivered and thought about how safe he was with his remote-controls.

Out of respect for their father, both boys agreed to sit in their new vehicles, but neither would turn the ignition. As soon as their dad released them, they hurried back inside to their cozy playroom to keep working on their models.

At first, their dad thought they would get used to the idea of having a real car and a real plane, but they didn’t. Weeks went by, and the boys continued to ignore the chance to drive and fly. Instead they spent their days inside with their toys. Their dad was so disappointed. He tried telling them stories about the joy of driving and flying. He tried showing them how he could do both. He tried showing them pictures and videos. The boys enjoyed watching them, but still had no interest in actually getting into a car or a plane. 

Finally, in frustration, their dad came into the playroom one morning and began packing up all their toys  and models.

“What are you doing?” the boys cried.

“I’m taking your toys away. You aren’t children any more. It’s time to move on to real things.”

“How could you be so cruel?” John asked.

“We thought you loved us!” Michael yelled.

And of course, their dad said, “I do.”

“When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:11-12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

  

Instead of printing off cheesy Christmas jokes for my kids’ lunchboxes this year, I decided to try writing a cheesy Christmas story instead! It’s twelve parts for each of them, and though the stories are each from the perspective of a different kid, they tell about the same events. I completely acknowledge the Hallmark quality of this, but it is Christmas after all, so maybe it can be excused. Bear in mind that Lucy is six, so I had to work hard to make her story something she could read herself. Hopefully. I just sent the first one today. We’ll see how a little Christmas cheese goes over!

  
Lucy 

1. Once there was a girl named Holly. She was six years old. She lived with her dad because her mom had died. Her dad was fun. He played and told stories and loved Holly. But every year at Christmas, he got so sad. He missed Holly’s mom.

2. Holly’s mom put up a Christmas tree each year, but after she died, Holly and her dad did not have Christmas trees. This year Holly decided to get one to make her dad happy.

3. One day Holly left home to go find a Christmas tree in the woods. She walked and walked. It was cold, but she had warm gloves. She looked for a tree that was small to take home.

4. As Holly walked in the woods, she heard a bark. She looked under a bush. There was a little dog! It was stuck in the bush. Holly got it out. The dog licked her face.

5. Holly put the dog in her coat and zipped it up. It would be warm there. She walked on. She still needed a Christmas tree, but now she had a dog to help her look.

6. Holly and the dog looked for a tree. All the trees were big. No tree was small like Holly’s living room. Holly felt sad. She turned to go home.

7. Holly heard a noise. It was a THUNK, THUNK noise. She went toward the noise. Holly peeked around a tree and saw a boy and a girl. The boy was chopping wood.

8. Holly stepped forward. The boy stopped chopping. “Are you lost?” he said. The dog jumped inside her coat. Holly zipped it down. The dog jumped out. “Merry!” said the boy.

9. The boy’s name was Jack. The girl’s name was Joy. The dog was the boy’s dog. He was happy to find her. The axe was the girl’s axe. They said they could chop a Christmas tree for Holly, but their hands were cold. Holly gave them her gloves.

10. Jack cut a tree for Holly’s house. Joy carried it home. Holly’s dad was so happy to see her and the tree. He asked Jack and Joy to come to dinner on Christmas with their families.

11. Jack and Joy came to dinner. Jack brought his dog, Merry. Joy brought her brothers and sisters. They were a big group. It was fun to eat together.

12. Holly was so happy to have new friends. Her Christmas tree looked so pretty. They sat by the fire and she gave Jack and Joy presents. It was a pair of gloves for each of them. They smiled and said they would wear them next year to find her another Christmas tree. It was a happy Christmas.

Scott

1. Once upon a time, there was a boy named Jack. He lived with his parents in a little cabin at the edge of the woods. Jack didn’t have any brothers and sisters, but he did have a little yellow dog named Merry. Merry was Jack’s best friend. He got her for Christmas when he was five, and now that he was nine, he couldn’t even remember life without her.

2. One cold December day, Jack woke up and didn’t see Merry in her usual place next to his bed. His mom said she had let Merry outside early in the morning and had heard her barking at rabbits. Jack went out and called for Merry, but she didn’t answer. He looked all around the house, but she was nowhere in sight. Jack started to be very worried. He kept calling for Merry until he mom said it was time for school. All day in school, Jack thought about Merry. When he got home, she still wasn’t there. He wanted to go look for her right away, but his dad said it was too dark. Jack determined that h would head into the woods the next morning to find Merry, no matter what.

3. Early the next morning, which fortunately was Saturday, Jack packed up a huge ham for Merry and a thermos of hot chocolate for himself and slipped out of the house. He had left a note for his parents, but he didn’t wait to tell them what he was doing in case they wouldn’t let him. He headed off into the woods, calling Merry’s name as he went.

4. Jack walked for a long time. He was getting really cold and was just thinking about stopping to drink that thermos of hot chocolate when he heard a noise. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. “Merry?” Jack called. He hurried toward the sound. Suddenly it stopped. He walked forward more carefully. “Merry?” he asked more softly. Now he could hear a new sound, a choking sort of sound. He ran forward, but instead of seeing his dog, he saw a girl in the clearing before him.

5. The girl was tall, probably a year or two older than Jack, and she had a tight yellow braid down her back. Jack saw an axe next to her in the snow, but she wasn’t using it at the moment. Instead, her head was bowed. The choking noises were coming from her. She was crying. “Are you okay?” Jack asked. The girl lifted her head in surprise and took her hands away from her face. Jack saw that both hands were red and freezing.

6. “I’m Jack,” Jack said, taking his own hand out of his pocket and holding it out to the girl. “My name is Joy,” she said as she shook it. Her hands felt like ice. “Can I help you with something?” he asked. “No, I’m fine,” said the girl, even though it was clearly not true. “Were you trying to cut something down?” Jack asked, pointing at the axe. The girl sniffed. “I was trying to cut some firewood to sell in town. If I could make a little money, I could buy my family’s Christmas dinner. But my hands are too cold. I can’t use the axe right, so it will never work.”

7. Jack thought uncomfortably of the ham in his bag. He really needed it to find Merry. She would come from any distance once she smelled the ham. But if this girl’s family didn’t have any Christmas dinner… Jack thought of a solution. “I can help you cut the firewood!” he said. “Put your hands in your pockets to warm them up while I chop. Then when my hands get cold, I’ll put them in my pockets while you take a turn.” “You would do that for me?” Joy said. Instead of answering, Jack picked up the axe and went to work.

8. Jack chopped for a long time, but he only made a small stack of wood before his hands were too cold to hold the axe anymore. He started to think this was a terrible idea. It was taking so long, he would never have time to find Merry. Maybe he should just give Joy the ham and then look for his dog without it. He was about to say as much when he heard the crack of a branch breaking and looked up to see a little girl come out from behind a tree.

9. The little girl stared at Jack and his axe with wide eyes. She looked scared. “Are you lost?” Jack asked her. “I can’t find my Christmas tree,” the little girl said. That made no sense to Jack. Maybe she meant she couldn’t find her house? That must be where her Christmas tree was. He was about to ask her when he heard a squeal from under the little girl’s thick coat. She unzipped it a bit, and a tiny brown head poked out. It was Merry! Merry wriggled in joy and jumped out into the snow to race toward Jack.

10. Once Jack had hugged Merry and let her lick his face at least twelve times, he began to question the little girl. Her name was Holly. She had come into the woods to look for a Christmas tree to cheer up her father, and she had found Merry tangled in some bushes. She set Merry free and brought her along to search for the tree, but even with the dog’s help, she hadn’t been able to find a tree small enough for her to carry home. “How were you planning to cut down the tree?” Jack asked. The little girl’s face fell. “I don’t know,” she whispered. He felt sorry for her, but what had she been thinking? A six-year-old girl should not be trying to find a Christmas tree in the woods alone. “It’s a good thing you found us, then,” said Joy, stepping forward with a smile, “because we have an axe.”

11. Everything went from freezing and worried and hungry to happiness in the space of ten minutes. Before anything else, Jack took out the thermos of hot chocolate, and all three of them shared it. Little Holly had a warm pair of gloves, and when Jack put them on, it took no time at all to cut the top off of a tree in just the right size for Holly’s house. Now that he had Merry back, he offered the ham to Joy for her family, and she was happy to accept. It was good that Joy was there because not only did she have the axe, but she was the only one big enough to drag the tree back to Holly’s house. The three of them tramped through the snow with Merry tagging along at their heels. Jack couldn’t believe how much happier he was than he had been when he left home that morning.

12. Back at Holly’s house, they found her father frantic with worry over his missing daughter. When he saw them, and they explained about the tree, though, his eyes filled with tears. He was so happy that they had brought his daughter back safely that he invited them and their families to Christmas dinner. It was the best Christmas celebration Jack had ever had. Not only did he have Merry back and have a big meal with his two new friends, but Joy had five brothers and sisters, including a brother just his age! It was the huge family Christmas Jack had always wanted. Later that night, they sat by a fire and Holly brought out two Christmas presents. Jack and Joy opened them up and found the warmest gloves ever. They laughed and agreed that they would wear them next year when they helped Holly find her Christmas tree in the woods.
Ellie 

1. Once, long ago, there was a girl named Joy. Her father was a doctor and her mother was a baker, and she had three little brothers and two little sisters, and since she was the oldest of them all, she often had to watch over them while her mother baked bread to sell to the neighbors. Joy sometimes wished she could be alone, but she didn’t mind the work too much because at the end of every day, there was always fresh baked bread and her father coming home with a twinkle in his eyes and a hug for his oldest daughter.

2. One cold November day, Joy’s father came home after a long day, and the usual twinkle was not in his eye. He still had a hug for his daughter, but she could feel his arms trembling as they squeezed her. He could not eat his dinner, and when he went to bed he was flushed with fever. Joy’s father was very sick. For weeks he lay in his bed and couldn’t work. Joy’s mother assured them all that he would get better, but Joy saw how worried she was. Finally one night, Joy asked her mother for the truth. “He really will get better,” her mother said, “but right now we have no money because he isn’t working. I can barely buy enough flour to make bread every day, and we certainly won’t have enough for Christmas dinner.”

3. Joy hugged her mom and told her they didn’t need anything special for Christmas dinner, but that night she lay in bed and thought about what she could do. She knew it would be a long and sad Christmas without their usual feast. She thought about the problem for hours and finally remembered that old man Jenkins in the town would pay kids money if they brought him firewood, since he was too old to get it for himself. She knew her father had an old axe somewhere. She could go into the woods and chop some wood. The money probably wouldn’t be enough to buy a Christmas ham, but at least it could get them a little sugar for cookies.

4. Early the next morning, Joy put on her coat and took the axe from its place in the shed. It was cold as she trudged out into the woods, but Joy kept her hands in her pockets. Normally her mother knitted them all gloves each fall, but this year she had been too busy nursing their father. Joy’s old gloves were much too small, but she refused to feel sorry for herself. At least she still had this warm coat that used to be her mothers. The pockets would do just fine. A little ways into the woods, Joy found a big fallen log, perfect for chopping into firewood. Joy had never used the axe before, but she was determined, so she set to work.

5. Chopping wood was hard work. Really hard work. Joy’s shoulders ached and her back hurt and her arms felt like jelly after only five minutes. She could have ignored all of that, though. The thing she hadn’t counted on was the cold. Of course, she couldn’t keep her hands in her pockets while chopping wood, and the metal handle of the axe was like ice under her fingers. Before long she couldn’t even feel her fingers. She was forced to stop and drop the axe into the snow. Joy felt defeated. She would never be able to do this. She refused to cry, but for just a minute, she dropped her head into her hands and let her frustration take over.

6. “Are you okay?” a voice asked. Joy looked up to see a boy just a little bit younger than her standing under the trees watching her. She sniffed back the tears that had started to come in spite of her. “I’m fine,” she said. She could tell he didn’t believe her. The boy introduced himself as Jack. He was so friendly that she found herself shaking his hand and telling him all about what she was doing there. A funny look came over his face but instead of laughing at her, he dropped his backpack and offered to help chop the wood. He said they could take turns chopping and warming their hands in their pockets. Joy couldn’t believe he was nice enough to help her, especially when he told her while he worked that he had come out here to look for his little dog who was lost. She hoped the dog wasn’t hurt and waiting for him while he took the time to help her. She decided that when they were done, she’d help him in his search before she went into town.

7. It felt so good to have her hands in her warm pockets again, but Joy could see that after only a few minutes Jack’s hands were also red and frozen. She was just about to suggest that he stop and warm them (she thought maybe she could take a turn again now) when she heard a noise under the trees. Joy turned just in time to see a little girl step out from behind a tree. She was small and looked lost. Jack, who was apparently always friendly, asked her right away if she needed help. She said she couldn’t find her Christmas tree, which Joy thought was strange, but before she could say anything else, the girl unzipped her coat and a small dog leapt out into the snow. From the look on Jack’s face and the excited yipping of the dog, Joy could tell it was his lost puppy. 

8. After Jack had greeted his dog, he opened up his backpack and took out a big package wrapped in brown paper. He looked embarrassed as he held it out to Joy. “It’s a ham,” he said. “I brought it to help me find Merry, but now I have her. I want it to be for you. For your family.” Joy couldn’t believe he was just giving her the whole big ham. “Now we don’t have to chop wood,” Jack said. “Now we can just cut down a Christmas tree for Holly.” Joy smiled. They went to work right away finding the perfect one. 

9. Jack did most of the work cutting down the Christmas tree. It was easy once Holly gave him the warm pair of gloves she had been wearing. They must have been her father’s because they fit Jack perfectly. Joy was the only one big enough to carry the tree back to Holly’s house. She was so happy to be able to help these new little friends who had helped her, too. She thought of how happy her family would be to see that ham, and she was glad she had decided to come into the woods that day. 

10. When they got to Holly’s house, her father was so happy to see them. He had been terribly worried when he couldn’t find his daughter, and he was grateful to Jack and Joy for finding her and bringing her home that he invited them and all their families back for Christmas dinner. He explained that he and Holly would be all alone otherwise, because he wife had died when Holly was little. That was why Holly had wanted a tree, because her mother had always put one up when she was alive. Joy was happy to say her family would come to dinner. “Now you can have ham for Christmas breakfast instead!” Jack said. Joy just smiled in return. 

11. Christmas dinner at Holly’s house was wonderful. Her father had bought a huge feast, a turkey with all the trimmings. Jack was there with his parent and his dog, Merry. He made friends with Joy’s little brothers right away. They all talked and laughed all afternoon, and even Joy’s father, who was propped up on the couch, wrapped in blankets, looked better than he had in a long time. Joy couldn’t remember ever being so happy. 

12. Later that night when they were all sitting by the fire telling stories, Holly came up to Jack and Joy and handed them each a present. They opened them up and found nice warm gloves! Joy had to laugh, thinking of that miserable afternoon trying to chop wood without them. She and Jack promised they would wear their new gloves next year when they all went to the woods to find Holly a Christmas tree. Joy would bring the axe, and Jack would bring Merry to keep them company. It made Joy happy to think of how these last dark weeks had brought them all together, and how it had given them a new Christmas tradition. 

I’m working up some really fun advent stuff to share with you later this week, but in the meantime, I just had to tell you about Ocean Blue.

Ocean Blue is the book my six-year-old is writing.  Yes, the one who can’t write very well yet, so yes, she’s illustrating it and telling me what happens. 

But, you guys, it’s lovely.

Here is the basic plot. “It’s not the whole story, Mommy. These are just, like, the details they would put on the back of the book to tell you what it’s about.”

Ocean Blue is a princess from a kingdom by the sea. She has blue eyes just the color of the ocean. She was adopted by a family because her parents were killed, or so they thought, and because she was adopted as a baby she doesn’t even know that she is a princess.  The new family she lives with is far from the beach. They live next to a volcano instead. It’s a sleeping volcano, so it won’t go off anytime soon, but it could explode someday. Ocean’s adopted sister is her best friend. Some bad guys show up [presumeably because they’ve been tracking Ocean?] and they threaten her family. They take her adopted parents up the volcano and threaten to throw them in the lava. Ocean and her sister have to go to the beach and collect all the blue stones and hand them over in order to rescue their parents.

Okay, seriously. It’s got borrowed elements like all fairytales, but that’s got some real possibility as a story. The two adoptive sisters against the world. A princess who doesn’t even know who she is. I’m kind of itching to fill in all the details, but I’d rather wait and see where Lucy takes it. Because, really, the mind that came up with this much will likely have so many more fascinating things in it.

Just a reminder, all, that in between the fighting over showers and vegetables and homework and winter gloves, having kids is so much fun.

   
 
Ocean’s home by the volcano, and the stones by the sea where her old home was. I’m thinking that no one without Ocean’s blue eyes can see those stones, which is why the bad guys need her to collect them. But we’ll see what the author thinks…

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Matilda Lee Franklin-Dupress
Was always the perfect hostess
Her cuisine was divine
Paired with just the right wine
And the napkins were matched to her dress

On Thanksgiving, Matilda went wild
In her fridge the ingredients were piled
She woke up before dawn
Put her best apron on
Went to work on the turkey and smiled

But alas, perfect things are quite rare
For the universe finds it unfair
It is hard to say why
Everything went awry
But the blame likely falls on the chair

She stepped on it to reach her best pan
The chair tipped, she fell, flailing her hands
She hit the relish tray
And three pies on the way
They all flew off and hit the trash can

Matilda was shaken and bruised
And those veggies now couldn’t be used
A tear pricked her eye
As she cleaned up the pie
For her flawless plan now was confused

That’s the point when things really got bad
While she cleaned, all distracted and sad
The potatoes all burned
The oven switch went unturned
So raw turkey was all that she had

By noon clearly all was disaster
When her husband came in and he asked her
Are you doing okay?
She just pushed him away
And the tears came on faster and faster

Since Gerald Dupress was a boy
He’d found turkey impossible to enjoy
He gave thanks for his life
Poured some wine for his wife
Then ordered a pizza with joy