A Life Long Love of Learning: July 2012

   These are some things that God has been teaching me. I have to relearn this on a daily basis. (I wrote this poem on Oct. 2011 my first semester in college.)
   I exort you! Oh, ladies, do not succumb to self-pity and the lies of Satan! You are beautiful and God has created you to reflect His beauty and grace in a way that no other person could! Only because of His grace!
   Remember, "Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised."- Prov. 31:30.
   "And so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive..."- Titus 2:4-5
   The most beautiful thing in a woman is to see the gospel lived out in a selfless heart that loves the Lord and follows His Word.

Ah, vanity, vanity
What have you done to me?
I listen to your lies
All you desire is my demise
Never content; wanting more
You don't relent; out your lies pour
I believe your best interest,
Until corruption will invest
And I find myself in deeper
than before
Until I am a bitter, old weeper
Who drowns in self pity
Whose soul is nasty and gritty
What more do I deserve
Than what I am served
And, yet, God has blessed me
Only my beauty does He see
Restored by His grace
Until it lights up my face
And, humbled, again, I turn
To He, who loves me though I spurn
And He uplifts my downcast head
Until my heart that once was lead
Is lighter than the air itself
So that I turn from myself
Once again, praise His name
For only He is worthy of fame
I am not worthy at all
Because I stumble and fall
But, He honors me with His call
I am His beloved, chosen child
Who is proud, arrogant, and wild
But is tamed by His touch
From my little, He will make much
Because He is incredible, amazing God
My Counselor, Lover, Strength, and Rod
So, vanity, beware of the Lord!
For He will desicate you with His sword
For you are proud, and you He does despise
Vanity, hear me- for you will see:
Your own victory will be your own demise.

I wrote this for a project in my AP English class my junior year of highschool.

We were walking through the forest- my daddy, the king, my mummy, the queen, and my two younger brothers. The trees swished their branches lazily in the cool breeze. The velvet red sun was slipping behind the mountains in the distance, leaving a pink trail in its wake. All that I could hear was the quiet crunching of the crisp, fallen leaves on the hard-packed ground. The roses were the only flowers that dwelled there in the forest. They were of all colors. Blue ones, red ones, pink ones, yellow ones, orange ones, green ones, purple ones, white ones, black ones, and silver ones. The forest burst with color from them. So beautiful, so serene, so innocent. But that day, I was walking with my mother and father while my younger brothers ran ahead- it was there. My youngest brother, Noah, found it and ran to us shouting, “Mummy, Daddy, Melody!! Come! Come!! Me ‘n Jesse found sump’n!! It’s a rose! A rose!!”

We followed Noah and Jesse, thinking that they were talking about all the roses around us. As they were only five and four years old, they often led us to roses that looked like the ones we usually saw on our visits to the forest. And Noah would say, “It’s for Mummy!!” And my mother would pick it and bring it home with her to put it in her favorite vase that I made her. It had butterflies on it- I had painted it for her birthday last year- it was her favorite.

But this time it was different…It wasn’t just any rose- this rose was gold. We had never seen a golden rose before. It was alone, one rose on a single, thorny stem. A ray of the sun’s last beams of light hit it in a way that gave it an angelic aura. The petals curled perfectly away from its bud. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I heard music, and it seemed as though the music was coming from the rose. “Pick it, Mummy!” shouted Noah, and soon Jesse joined in, “Pick it!”

My mother laughed her silver bell laugh and said with a smile, “All right! All right! I will.”

As she promised, she bent down and picked the special flower. “Ouch!” A little drop of blood oozed from her ring finger. Glancing up at my brothers’ faces, she said quickly, “Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. I will clean it when I get home.”

But as we walked on, my mother’s face grew paler and strained. I saw my father watching her anxiously. But, whenever he met my eyes, he smiled a strained smile as though nothing was wrong.

“Caroline, are you all right?” I heard him whisper into her ear.

“Oh, just a little weary, I suppose.” She patted his hand and smiled weakly.

“Are you sure? We can go home now… I will call the griffins.” I don’t think I had ever heard my father sound so worried.

“No, no, James. I’m fine! Stop worrying!” She stretched up to her tip-toes to kiss him but fell to her knees.

“Mother!” I screamed and ran to her side.

My father whistled sharply and then scooped my mother up in his strong arms. He started to walk briskly toward a clearing in the forest. The boys, confused, ran after him.

“The rose!” My mother cried, twisting her head to look at me. “Melody, please get my rose!”

“Yes, Mother! I will!” I ran back to the spot where my mother had fallen and saw the rose lying on the hard-packed ground. I picked it up gingerly, being careful not to prick my fingers as my mother had on its thorns. How strange, they were black… I had never seen black thorns before. The stem was black, too. An inky, midnight black. The rose no longer looked beautiful. As soon as I had seen its black stem and thorns, its beauty had faded. It looked wrinkled. And old- as though it was a thousand years old. I smelled something putrid. It was the rose. A small, black, spindly spider crawled out of the crumpling petals and hopped onto my hand. I dropped the golden rose and shook my hand to get the spider off. It clung onto my hand. I swept it off with my other hand and stomped it with my foot. But, the spider was unharmed. Unfazed, the spider scampered off into the brush. I looked at the rose, and I felt a shiver, like icy-cold fingers run up my spine. I looked at the rose. It had become a rotting, hideous black thing… How could something so repulsive have the appearance of something so pure? I felt a bizarre sensation creeping upon my consciousness, as though all the joy in the world was an allusion. The rose was sucking all of my happiness, peace, and hope. I had to leave this place! Scared, I ran back to my father and my mother in the forest’s clearing, without the rose.

My brothers were kneeling with my father beside my mother. I looked at her and started to cry. Her face was whiter than any snowfall our kingdom had ever seen. It was drained of all color. Her thick, dark hair was spanned out all over the dirt and made her face look even whiter. Her bright, green eyes were glazed and dull. My mother was

dying. The thought hit me with such force that I fell to my knees beside her.

“Did you get my rose, Melody?” She whispered so softly I barely heard her.

“What? Oh, no. I didn’t. It was lost. I’m sorry, mother.” I hated to lie to her, but I knew that if I told her what the rose had become it would break her heart.

I heard wings. Looking up, I saw the griffins. They were so obedient, so loyal- they had immediately responded to my father’s whistle. My father jumped up and spoke to them.

“Quick! We must get Queen Caroline back to the castle at once!”

“No, James. It’s too late.” Again my mother spoke so quietly that we could barely hear her.

My father looked crazed. “What are you talking about, Caroline?? Of course, it’s not too late!!” He turned to the two griffins, pleading now. “Elijah, Gabriel, please.”

“No, she is right. It is too late.” I thought I saw a tear trickle down the feathers on Elijah’s face.

My mother looked at me and murmured, “Melody, sing me a song. I want to hear you sing one more time.”

Tears fell down my face faster. “Okay.” My voice broke.

“Oh, Melody, Melody. Don’t cry, my Melody!” My mother looked at me; her green eyes were suddenly bright. “Sing for me. Sing me a song.”

I did. I sang her a song - I had never written a song before. But the words just flowed from my heart.

“You are dying.

And I watch while crying.

And I want to make you better,

but I can’t.

But don’t leave me.

Oh please, my mother.”

That is how the chorus went. My mother smiled and said, “So beautiful, Melody. So beautiful. But, sad. I won’t leave you. I promise I will never leave you. I will always be in your heart. Always. Always.” She sighed quietly, closed her eyes, and said no more.

“Mother? Mother!” I cried harder.

“Caroline!! Caroline, Caroline, Caroline!” My father kissed her fiercely over and over again, but she was gone.

“Mummy? What’s wrong with her, Melody?” My brothers shouted shrilly, starting to cry.

I only cried harder. The griffins took Noah and Jesse under their wings, while they fought back crying out, “No! NO!! We want Mummy!!”

“We have to head back now.” My father’s voice had turned hard.

“Father?” I sniffed and reached out to him.

He pulled away, turning his face from me, but not before I saw the tears glistening on his cheeks. I had never seen my father cry before. “We have to return to the kingdom and prepare for the funeral.” My father’s voice softened and broke. He looked up and blinked rapidly.

“King James, we are ready when you are.” Gabriel stood erect with Jesse folded under his wing.

My father wiped the tears from his face angrily. “Yes, of course. Let’s go.”

Gabriel and Elijah swept the boys onto their backs. Elijah bent to his knees for my father, who swung himself onto his back with grace. Clumsily, I clambered onto Gabriel’s back with Jesse, who was in shock. The boys somewhat understood what had happened. Noah was sobbing uncontrollably, and Jesse was rocking back and forth and staring ahead with glazed, tear-filled eyes. My father was staring ahead, holding my mother tightly in his arms the whole ride back home. But, when we arrived home, my father could hold it in no longer. He cried for a long time.

The next week was a blur. I only remember parts of it… The funeral, though, I remember so vividly. It seems as though it was only yesterday. Practically the whole kingdom showed up it. Ironically, roses were everywhere in the room, but that’s what my mother had told us she wanted. Her coffin was a bright yellow, which almost made me smile. My mother never wanted to be buried in, as she said, “a dull, gloomy-colored coffin. Instead, make my coffin bright yellow.” The ceremony was unbearably long. My mother wouldn’t have liked it. She would have stood up and said, “All right! Stop! Talk about the good times we had together, not about how much you miss me!” I almostexpected her to, but she didn’t, of course. Everyone came up to my father, my brothers, and me and told us how sorry they were and what a blessing she had been to the kingdom. I wanted to shout, “Of course you are sorry! But, that doesn’t bring her back, now, does it?” My father’s face was stony. My brothers were so quiet it was unnerving. And, I, well, I hardly know how I was…

Just when I thought that I couldn’t stand another person telling us how much they loved her and missed her, he came up to us. I don’t remember what his face looked like. He was dressed very plainly. So plainly, in fact, that as he walked up to my mother’s coffin and us, I thought Don’t tell me how much you miss her…You didn’t even care enough to dress up for her funeral. You don’t deserve to be here…

Whenever I think back on that fickle thought, I realize how unjust it is to judge people before I know them. For you see, this man saved us. I still wonder to this day if he actually heard my thoughts. For, he turned to me and said in a lyrical voice, “I know you don’t know me. And I know I’m not dressed up all nice like everyone else. But, I wanted to come here to tell you that your mother is one of my favorite people in the whole world. I love her very much. And I love you all just as much. And I hate to see you all grieving. You don’t understand how much it hurts me to see you sad. So, I will give you your Caroline back.” He turned to the coffin, bent down over my mother, and kissed her face.

Then the most miraculous thing in the world happened… My mother sat up.

She looked at the stranger, and said, “Thank you, it was so uncomfortable lying in this thing.” He laughed joyfully, helped her out of the yellow coffin, and hugged her tightly. She turned to us and embraced us. She kissed the top of our heads and kissed my father for a long time. She laughed her silver bell laugh at our shocked faces. Then my father’s face lit up with euphoria at the full realization of what had happened. My brothers became louder than I had ever heard them before, laughing more than I had ever heard anyone laugh. And I, well, no words can describe how I was feeling…

My mother was alive! She was dead, but she was alive now!!! I couldn’t wrap my mind around it! It seemed like a horrible dream that had ended. All the sad, weeping people began to rejoice. The queen, my mother, who was dead, had risen from death! It was a miracle! God must have smiled on us that day. After a while of singing, laughing, and chatting with everyone, I remembered the man. I turned, looked, searched, but he was gone. He must have disappeared in all the celebration. I regret my hasty judgments of him. I regret that we never thanked him. I will never forget him and what he did for us. We celebrated for a week; it was the biggest, happiest, and glorious celebration the kingdom had ever known.

We have gone to the forest many times afterwards. I never told my mother about the rose, and I never bothered my brothers with it either. But, I told my father about it. I don’t think that he ever fully believed me and that the rose had killed my mother.

I have been to the forest many times by myself since that day. I walk past the spot were my mother picked the rose. Past the spot where I dropped it. Past the spot where the spider escaped. Past the spot where my mother died. I have searched. I have seen many different roses, but never again have I seen a golden rose. I don’t know what I would have done if I found another one. But, I can’t say that I am disappointed, though.

A Life Long Love of Learning

Monday, July 2, 2012

Metamorphosis

To Vanity

My Mother's Golden Rose

Tribure to Past Friends and Present Ones and New Ones