Gazette, December 2013

Editor's Corner

Well, when we rolled out the gazette in its newest format, we mentioned that here we would talk about a few different kinds of things, specifically including the reasoning behind the theme.. This month’s theme was chosen over a year ago now, and probably a theme not based directly off of something Christmas-y because we felt like being different. Problem: it seems to have been a little too different and we didn't make any note of the reason we chose this theme, so I have no idea why we went with “treasure”. 

Thus, I have chosen to celebrate the end of a very full year with a humorous entry here regarding all the observances in December that obviously nothing to do with the theme. Thanks to Brownielocks.com for these insights!

December is Awareness Month of Awareness Months Month, National Tie Month, National Quince and Watermelon Month, Root Vegetables and Exotic Fruits Month, and Tomato and Winter Squash Month to name a few! The first week in December is Cookie Cutter Week, as well as National Hand-washing Awareness Week, and from the 15th-21st is National Gluten Free Baking Week. 


Wait! There’s more! The following I will present as highlights according to the dates for 2013... 

5 – Bathtub Party Day & International Ninja Day. Dress as Ninjas and party in the tub to celebrate! 
6 - National Faux Fur Day 
8 – National Time Traveler’s Day (pair this with Dalek Remembrance Day on the 21st, and you have a Dr. Who celebratory month!) 
16 – National Chocolate-Covered Anything Day 
26 – National Whiners’ Day 

Again, to learn more about the fabulous holidays available to celebrate this month, visit the above website and enjoy! 

The Editor, Aelsa Butler 
Secretary Editor, Allie Hawbaker

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Verses of the Month: 

1 Corinthians 4:7 

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not of us.  

{Agatha Forsyth}

~

Quotes of the Month: 

There is more treasure in books than in all the pirates’ loot on Treasure Island. 

Walt Disney 

No thief, however skillful, can rob one of knowledge, and that is why knowledge is the best and safest There is all the difference in the world between treasure and money. treasure to acquire. 

Frank L. Baum 

There is all the difference in the world between treasure and money.

Roderick Townley 

{Agatha Forsyth}

~

The Benefactor

A young widow sees the hand of God providing for her through a mysterious friend. To read earlier entries, please visit our website.

Five

The bright afternoon sun glared a piercing white off the metal playground slide, and Anne readjusted her sunglasses. It was one of those autumn days where the body is heated by the uninterrupted sunlight, but as a gust of wind blows by, one shivers and wishes they wore a hat.

Anne watched as her two year old little boy climbed up the steps, smiling as he turned and sat on the second from the top, calling out "Mommy, Mommy!" Waving and brushing a strand of her red hair out of her face, she thought about the last two years.

*****

"Anne George!"

"I'm sorry, Mom." She sobbed. "I'm really, really sorry."

The short, bustling woman slammed the refrigerator door.

"Not as sorry as you'll be when your pa finds out."

Anne threw up her hands. "Is that the best thing you can say to me? In response to my sincere regrets, you terrorize me by bringing Dad into it?"

"Anne, we told you to stop seeing Vic, and you refused to listen!" Fiona George, a first-generation Irish immigrant originally from the east coast, usually sounded as American as the next Yankee, but when she was angry, her native tongue came out. "Perhaps you ought have been a wee bit more terrorized by our first conversation, and you would be less afraid now, plus having no regrets. Now, you'll have to deal with both your fears and your regrets." She marched over to Anne, and with a rough gesture grabbed her by her hoodie strings. "You are merely seventeen, too young to be snogging with a boy, much less parenting with one. Especially Victor Young, a nineteen year old knacker lifesaver trying to get a degree in some trade which even the dogs in the street know may not hire a single person in the space of a year, and pays the culchie’s wages. Your sisters have done this, and worse, but I had hopes for you." She sighed, and picked up the pregnancy test sitting on the kitchen counter, shaking it at her. "I had my hopes, Anne."

Her daughter had her head resting on her knees, shoulders shaking, and Fiona softened her tone. "I should have expected something, though, with the life I chose for myself. And why, oh why, did I drag you into it?”  she sighed. “Let me handle your father, but don't you go anywhere near Vic until we have this figured out. You will go sit in your room until that point. Go!"

The next morning, Anne found herself homeless. Her mother had done her best to assuage her father's anger, but alcohol combined with a bad day at work drove Will George to violence, the conflict ending with a forceful command to leave. With one backpack of clothes, a black eye, three bruised ribs, and her month's allowance, Anne grabbed her bike and turned to the only other person she trusted.

Victor Young, an Italian art student originally from Indiana who Anne met while at camp, had just finished his freshman year of college and was working over the summer for the park district as a lifeguard.  It was for him that Anne sat and waited three hours, standing in silence when he arrived, and mutely followed into his apartment when he finally came.

"Anne!" He grinned awkwardly, and planted a kiss on her forehead. Anne grimaced at the smell of beer on his breath and pushed him away, dropping her bags on the floor.

“Why, and what, have you been drinking?”

"What's wrong?" Victor sighed as he threw himself onto the futon.

"You know what's wrong."

Vic shrugged. "You're pregnant. I'm not mad at you. Everything's just fine."

"It's not fine. I shouldn't have done what I did, and now I've been kicked out.  And, you’re underage for drinking.  There are several problems to discuss, actually."

He raised his eyebrows. "Your dad evicted you? I didn't think the coward could do anything so radical. He's a lot of huff without any puff. You should go back tonight, and just assert yourself."

Anne shook her head decidedly. "No. Even if he would take me back, I don't want to raise a kid in that home. He gets drunk and beats me and my mom, and watches my every move like a hawk. What would he do to my child who he’s determined to hate?  It's been a tough place for me, and I would have left there eventually anyway. I just would have gotten a job first, but there is no way I’m going back now."

"So now what?"

"I move in here, with you, until I'm old enough to sign a marriage license without parental consent.  You’ll shape up, I’ll try to help you, and we’ll live together, raising this baby together as though we were married, then putting ourselves right the day I turn eighteen, starting over the way we should have done in the first place." She looked up at him pleadingly.

"Anne, I cannot support you and a kid on my summer gig."

"I'll get a job."

"Yeah, so that covers things until school starts, when it will pay for the rent here while I have to convince my parents to keep paying a husband and father’s way through college. This isn't going to work." He pulled her down to the couch, but Anne would not have it, rocketing up immediately.

"Kissing me now is going to do nothing for you.  If you haven’t learned this already you had better learn it now.  When I’m angry about something, there will be no kissing until the issue is resolved.  Especially when that behavior is what got us in this mess in the first place.” she leaned against the wall farthest away from him.  “Well, what do you think we should do? I am not going to go into the foster system." Anne folded her arms, and glared at him.

"Of course not. I think you should abort the baby, move in here with me, get a job, and pay half of the housing. I'll tell my parents I've got a roommate, and we'll be fine."

Anne was shocked.  "Vic, I'm catholic. Catholics do not abort their babies."

Vic shrugged. "Catholics also don't get pregnant as unmarried high school seniors. If your beliefs were so important to you, you should have thought about this before."

Throwing up her hands, Anne leaned her head on the wall. "I know I made a mistake, okay? It was like the first thing out of my mouth when I came in here. But I'm not about to cover a bad choice with a worse one!"

"Worse?"  He threw her an exasperated look, and within a moment had joined her in the corner, grabbed her chin and screamed at her.  “Somehow trying to live some kind of normal life rather than raising a mini human being who will destroy our lives as we know it is worse than my going bankrupt?!”

"No need to yell at me or hurt me, Victor.  If this continues I’m leaving right now.”  She spoke firmly, despite the sickening terror in her heart whenever she felt in danger, and breathed in relief when he relented and the anger melted from his eyes as his grip relaxed.  “Adultery is bad enough, but murder is out of the question, Victor." she continued calmly.

"It's a fetus that resembles a jellyfish at this stage, chick, not a cute little human being."  His fingers still held her chin, and his suddenly quiet voice soothed her at first, and she almost smiled as she relished in the movie-like stance.  A half a moment later and the words had sunk in. She whipped her head away.

"Look, Vic, if you don't want our baby, you don't want me."

Vic reached for her hand. "Of course I want you, babe, and I really do want the kid, I just can't afford you both."

Resolutely refusing to cry in front of him, Anne swallowed, pushed by him and picked up her suitcase. "In that case, I'll make it on my own. I will not stay here with someone so concerned about money that he would kill his own offspring rather than think maybe he could cut back on his illegal alcohol or expensive, dangerous cigarettes." She indicated a half empty six pack, reaching for the open pack of Camels and angrily throwing into the trash can. "I may be young and easily swayed by opinions, but I will not end my child's life under pressure from anybody. Goodbye, Vic. Don't follow me. I'm sorry about everything."

Vic stood up, and grabbed her hand as she turned to go.

"Please, don't leave, Anne. I'm sorry. Let's compromise. I couldn't let you be homeless. Please, live here for now. I'll help you try to find a job, I'll feed, clothe, and house you until we succeed, and you can keep the baby, at least for now. Once it's born, something will have to give, but until then, I'll care for you like a man should, and even though we're both super young and make big mistakes, we'll at least make them together."

Anne hesitated. Finally the internal grief came pouring out, and she nodded, sobbing into his muscular shoulder.

“Vic, isn’t he beautiful?” she whispered, gazing down at the little boy sleeping at home for the first time in a large laundry basket that served as his crib.

Sighing, Victor turned away.  “Babe, he looks like a potato.  He has your hair, which makes him that much closer to being attractive to me, but I don’t find much to love about him.  Remember our deal.  As soon as he is capable of living without constant motherly attention, he’s going up for adoption.”

Anne shut her eyes.  “No, Vic, that was not a deal.  It was an ultimatum.  Either he goes or we both go, and as soon as he can go a couple hours without food, we’re going.  That is, unless you can fall in love with him as I have, and as a father ought.”  She glared at him.  “I was formerly the daughter of a single mom who had at least two children and put at least one, probably both of us, up for adoption, and I don’t know that my life improved at all because of that decision.  If I were to put Noah up for adoption, who knows where he’ll go.  No, I am his mother, and I will do what I ought by him, because though he is a consequence, he is a blessing of love to me.  He will not be going up for adoption.  I will be leaving when it comes to that.”

Three months later, Victor came home from a party almost unconscious.  After he spewed some very violent language and made threatening movements, Anne gathered her things and walked out onto the dark streets.  She cried as she did, horrified that she should twice be homeless, and the second time with a baby.  She took a cab to a town three hours northwest of her hometown, found a phonebook and called up a church, where the pastor heard her story and opened up his own home for her.  Within a month, she had found a job at the local McDonald’s and rented a studio apartment for her little family, while the pastor’s family agreed to care for Noah evenings.

God had been good to her, she knew.  Life was tough, being on WIC wasn’t fun for her pride, but she was surviving.  “At least,” she would tell herself, “that’s what Pastor says.”  She really didn’t see how everything that had been happening to her were good things.  She couldn’t see any way that this life was in anyone’s book of ideals.  So whenever anyone commented on her blessings, rather than agreeing, Anne turned away bitter.

“They can only call this good because they have not lived it.”

One evening at work, just minutes from the end of her shift, a young man came over to her. With a weary smile, she looked up.

"Hi, how can I help you?"

The stranger smiled sadly.  "I am totally fine, and don't need anything, thank you, I've already eaten.  I came over to try to help you. I was just wondering if there was anything I could pray for you."

Anne looked down as tears filled her eyes. Even the pastor’s family had never asked that.  They were willing to do anything she asked them, but nobody had ever come to her and asked to help.  After feeling alone for so long, his gentle concern filled her soul with overwhelming relief.

“Thank you.”  But somehow, Anne couldn’t get any further than that.

“I sense that you have a story to tell, a hard story, and I would love to know how I can be praying that it improve to a point where you know God has done something amazing for you.”

Anne clocked out, and she came to other side of the counter.  She knew that it could be dangerous to open up to a stranger, but her brain had completely surrendered itself to her heart, which felt the soft eyes of the man and embraced the love in his voice.  When she had told just about everything she could have told, she stopped and admitted her doubts that anyone knew what it was like.

“I know what it’s like.” the stranger said simply.  “I too was neglected by parents, and to this day have no idea where either of them went.  This happened when I was old enough to remember them, so that aspect of your pain I completely understand.  It is true, however, that very few people, especially in this area, know what it’s like to be homeless, to live here without friends or family; no one around who knows anything about you.” He shrugged.  “But, I want you to know that I’ll be praying for you, and that if you ever need anything and you see me, which I promise you will, please tell me.  Can I pray for you now?”

Anne nodded through her tears, and bowed her head.

A few weeks later, a Bible with some cash showed up in her apron pocket.  A little disturbed, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was this same stranger, but no members of the public were allowed in the kitchen, and nobody had seen anything, so she shrugged, put the things in her locker, and went to work.  The moment she got home, however, she opened the Bible and read it straight through in a week.  The anger in her heart melted, she gave her past and her future to Christ, and she kissed her little boy that night in perfect agreement with those who called her blessed.

*****

"See, Mommy?" Noah jumped down into the wood chips, and laughed. His clear blue eyes sparkled up at Anne as she set him on his feet.

"Yes! Good job! Let's go down the slide two more times, and then we'll go home, okay?"

"Okay."

They didn't return to the studio apartment, but thanks to a promotion to shift manager and nannying during the day, the nearly twenty year-old Anne had been able to secure a two bedroom apartment and a babysitter. She had called her parents' phone numbers to try to reconcile with them, and even drove to her childhood home when they didn't answer, but she found out that they had been evicted, and had moved away to nobody-knew-where. Victor, too, had disappeared, and so she settled into her new existence with an eased conscience and a zeal for doing the right thing. Her life had become a beautiful example of God's saving work and amazing provision, and as she sat down to eat supper after the afternoon at the playground with her little boy, she thanked Him earnestly.

"Let me be your love to someone who needs compassion and help; encouragement to a woman in need."

She opened her eyes, and sighed happily. After the past two years of miracles, she felt entirely confident that her prayers would be answered.

~

Editors’ Picks: 

enjoyable and pure media both old fashioned and new 

Website: 

Brownielocks.com/month2.html 

A mentioned in the Editor’s Corner, take a peek at this fun collection of both customary and hilarious holidays! 

Music: 

Piano Guys 2 

The second of the Piano Guys three albums, this contains cello/piano arrangements of favorites such as the Mission Impossible Theme (with fellow YouTube sensation Lindsey Sterling on violin), Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Lord of the Rings themes, Nearer My God to Thee, and a rendition of current Taylor Swift favorite Begin Again. Pianist Jon Schmidt and cellist Steven Sharp Nelson don’t disappoint their fans with this album, introducing some original tunes, as well as bringing their easy listening style to classical and pop tunes from across time.