Me and My Fears

I flung myself onto my bed, buried my face in the pillow, and sobbed. Hot tears soaked my pillow. Life had been perfect until then. My last best friend had just moved away the day before, and to make matters worse, I was going to have to do something I absolutely hated. The home school group which my family participated in was having a talent show of sorts. Kids from 1st grade to 12th grade were supposed to pick one of their talents or something they had learned that school year and perform for all the parents and grandparents who would be watching. I hated getting up on stage. It was one of my worst nightmares. Sometimes I would dream that I would get up on stage and find out I was wearing mismatched socks or not even wearing clothes at all. When Shelby was still here and there was an event like this coming up, she would always encourage me. We would find something we could do together, and she would do all the talking. Now that Shelby was gone, however, I would have to face one of my greatest fears alone. I sighed, turned over onto my back, and stared at the white ceiling. A spot where water had once leaked through seemed to be staring at me with an uncaring eye. Just then, I heard doors slam and the running of feet. I heard my youngest brother Jonathan yell something at the top of his lungs, and Michael yelled angrily back. Brothers. It seemed as though they were always fighting. I needed a break. Maybe I would go to Grandma Molly's house. She would understand. After all, she always had before. I stood up and slipped on my shoes, not even bothering to untie them. Grabbing my jacket from my closet, I ran downstairs to find my Mom.
    “Mom,” I said when I found her scrubbing potatoes in front of the kitchen sink. “May I go over to Grandma's for awhile?”
    “I guess, as long as you're back for supper,” she replied. Mom turned around, smiled, and held up a potato. “We're having you're favorite.” She winked at me, and I groaned. I absolutely hated potatoes.
    “I'm going to take Lady with me,” I said as I rushed out the door, slamming it behind me. I found Lady in her fence which we had set up beside our garden. We had not planted anything yet, but we would soon. Dad said it should start warming up. I loved working in the garden and was looking forward to it. Shelby and I used to sit in the garden and eat the cherry tomatoes straight off the plant. We had been doing that for as long as I could remember. However, this summer Shelby would not be here. It was still a good memory, but right now it hurt.
    As Lady and I walked the couple blocks to Grandma's house, I went back over the events of the last couple days in my mind. I began to imagine what I would say to Grandma that would make her sympathize with me. She was really my Dad's grandma, but my brothers and I always called her “Grandma”. Everyone in town liked Grandma because of her cheery attitude. They had even given her the nickname “Merry Molly.” Grandma was a little odd with her huge glasses and bright colored clothing, but we had a lot in common. We both loved birds and dogs. Spring was our favorite time of year, and we would spend afternoons together sketching the birds and flowers in her backyard.  Laughing and telling jokes was another one of our favorite past times. Besides Shelby, Grandma was my best friend.
    When I arrived at the doorstep of her teeny white house, Grandma flung her big arms around me and gave me one of those huge bear hugs. She held me for awhile, and then stepped back to get a good look at me.
    Grandma apparently could tell I was upset. “Is something wrong, Honey?” she asked. I tried to hold back the tears as I shut the door and let Lady loose to go play with Charlie, Grandma's little Yorkie. I then nodded and threw myself back into her arms. Starting with Shelby moving away, I told my pathetic story, even exaggerating here and there.
    For once, Grandma was quiet for awhile. She sat down on the couch and then patted the cushion beside her. I sat down and asked, “Grandma, what should I do?”
    “Look at me,” Molly replied. I obeyed, hoping to find sympathy in her face. Instead, I met a kind but stern stare which made me regret coming. “Kathrine,” she said. “I understand you are upset that Shelby had to move away, and I'm sorry. However, you think the whole world has to feel sorry for you when you have to do something you are afraid of doing. Kathrine, that is selfish. There will be times in life when people and even God will ask much greater things of you, and to refuse to do them because you are afraid would be selfish. I'm not saying it is wrong to be afraid. I'm saying it is wrong not to overcome your fear.”
    I could not believe what I was hearing. “Grandma, you don't understand!” I jumped up off the couch and stormed out of the house angrily. She just did not understand. I did not deserve a rebuke like that. “She called me selfish!” I sobbed. I cried all the way home.
    The next morning I realized I had left Lady at Grandma's. There was no way I could face Grandma again, so I asked my older brother Joseph if he would walk over and get Lady for me. Luckily, he did as I wished. At lunch time, it suddenly dawned on me that there was a home school meeting that day, and to make matters worse, it was going to be at our house. I grumpily began to push my spaghetti around on my plate. After potatoes and spinach, it was probably my next least favorite. Life just seemed rather dull at the moment.

    “I'm going to show everyone this one really awesome science experiment that I did this year,” said  Dusty who sat with her legs crossed on my bed. Two other home school girls also sat on my bed. I slumped in my desk chair nearby, listening to their conversation about the talent show.
    “I hope to play some classical piece on the piano,” chimed in another girl.
    “Grace, you did that last time,” said Dusty. She brushed her red frizzy curls out of her face.
    “I know, but I can't do anything else.” Grace pushed her glasses up on her face. “Ali, Kathrine, what are you planning on doing?”
    “Well, I think I'm going to sing,” replied Ali. “My voice teacher is teaching me a song in Italian.”
    “Italian? That would be awesome!” exclaimed Dusty, using her favorite word for the tenth time that day. “What about you, Kathrine?”
    I could have just said I did not know yet or that they would find out later, but for some stupid reason I had to come up with a lie. “I'm going to sing too,” I replied. I had this really bad jealousy for Ali. With here eyes of pure blue and golden curls, she was the prettiest girl in the home school group. Everyone always liked Ali's ideas, and I guess I hoped the other girls would give me some attention too.
    “What are you going to sing?” asked Ali who did not seem to care that I had said I was doing the same thing.
    “I don't know yet,” I replied. Suddenly, a feeling of guilt swept over me. I could not really sing that well. Grandma said I had a beautiful voice, and often asked me to sing to her when I went over to her house. She had even told me I needed to take lessons. I refused. Although I truly did enjoy singing and often dreamed of becoming a famous singer, I new it was impossible with my stage fright.
    Later that night Mom came up to my room to tell me good night. I was writing all of my frustrations in my journal and did not notice her at first. “I heard you are planning on singing at the talent show,” she said. Startled, I looked up. How could she have known about that? Now there was no way I could get out of singing, unless I wanted to get into trouble. “Are you sure you can manage that?” she asked me. I nodded. “I guess if you want to try that's fine,” Mom said as she left the room. It sounded as though she did not have much faith in me, but to tell the truth, I did not have much faith in myself.
    The next day Mom asked me to run an errand for her. I reluctantly told her I would. When she told me she wanted me to take a pan of freshly baked cookies over to Grandma's, I regretted saying I would. I was still mad at Grandma, and I had no idea what I could say to her without being rude. When I reached her door, I rang the door bell and waited for Grandma to open the door. After waiting a couple of minutes, I tried again. Still she did not come to the door. I thought  maybe she had gone somewhere, but one look in the garage told me she had not. Grandma's old blue Honda was still there. I went around to the backyard to see if maybe she was taking care her flowers or refilling the bird feeders, but I could not find her anywhere. Finally, I decided that she had gone on a walk and was glad for the excuse to go home. Then suddenly it dawned on me that something could be wrong. Maybe she was hurt or sick. The thought frightened me even though I was still mad at Grandma. I tried opening the front door, but it was locked. Then I went around to the screen door out back and found it unlocked. I stuck my head through the door and called out, “Grandma?” I tried again. Still there was no answer. I set the cookies on the coffee table in the living room and peeked into the kitchen. I gasped. As fast as I could, I scrambled to the spot where Grandma lay on the floor. I tried to wake her up, but to no avail. Grabbing the phone, I immediately called for help. “This can't be happening,” I cried to myself. “It just can't!”

    During the rest of the month Grandma was in and out of the hospital. The doctor said that she had a heart attack, and since then her health had rapidly declined. I never felt so alone in my entire life, even after Shelby had moved away. It hurt to see Grandma get weaker every day. The doctors could not do anything for her, and we knew that soon we would have to say goodbye. The end of the month was Grandma's 80th birthday, and some of here friends decided to have one last party for her. On the day of the party, my family drove over to Grandma's house to prepare for the guests. Grandma seemed weaker than she ever had, but she put on a smile anyways. The party was to be mainly in her room, and Grandma gave us special directions on where to hang up the decorations and set the cake. Eventually, guests started arriving. I was surprised at how many people came. It seemed as though all of Martinsville was coming to the party. Even Ali, Grace, and Dusty came. Many of the guests were sober at first, but soon Grandma had everybody smiling and laughing.
     After having cake and ice cream, everybody crammed into Grandma's room to give her gifts. When Grandma saw the gifts, I heard her chuckle, “Here I am, getting ready to leave this earth, and all these people give me gifts. I won't be able to take a single one with me!” She laughed to herself and shook her head. After opening several, Grandma seemed to get tired. Dad asked her if she needed to save them for later, but she shook her head and continued to open presents, smiling and exclaiming over each. Finally, after opening the last present, she rested her head back on her pillow and smiled at her guests.  It was a weary smile. Guests began talking about how she needed her rest and that it was time leave. “Wait a minute,” Grandma said. She motioned for me to come sit by her on the bed. “I have one more present.” Grandma then smiled at me and asked, “Will you sing for me?” I hesitated. There was no way I could sing in front of all these people. I looked into Grandma's eyes, hoping that she would change her mind. Then her words which had angered me so much flashed through my mind. "There will be times in life when people and even God will ask much greater things of you, and to refuse to do them because you are afraid would be selfish." I finally understood what she meant, and I knew her words were true. It would be selfish for me to deny my Grandma what would probably be her last time to hear me sing. That is, at least for awhile. I smiled at my Grandma. I could do it for her. Taking a deep breath, I started singing “The Old Rugged Cross,” which was her favorite hymn. Grandma's eyes began to get teary, which made me want to cry too. My voice cracked, but I continued. I knew God wanted me to.
    The next day Grandma was in the hospital again. This time the doctors said she would not make it. My family went to the hospital to say goodbye. When it was my turn, Grandma gave me a weak smile. “I love you,” she said.
    “I love you too,” I replied. Tears rolled down my face.
    “Will you do me a favor?” she asked. I nodded. “Take voice lessons. You have a special gift, Kathrine. Don't ever be afraid to use it for the Lord.” Tired, she laid back on her pillow. She died later that night.
    The following weeks flew on by as normal, although neither I nor my family felt normal. I missed my Grandma greatly, but I knew she was in a better place. It was also then that I began to change. I started overcoming my fears. As I did this, I noticed that I became stronger and more confident in myself. I realized I could do a lot of things. One of the first things I did was talk to my Mom. I told her I had not really been planning on singing at the talent show. As expected, I was punished. I was told I couldn't drive the car for a week. Also, I was told I would have to tell the other girls I had lied and why I lied. Mom did help me find something else to do since I did not have much training in the singing area. I ended up demonstrating how to draw a gold finch, and to my surprise, many people were interested. After, the show Ali walked up to me.
    “I thought you were going to sing,” she said.
    “I lied,” I said quietly, my face turning bright red.
    “Why?”
    “I guess I've always been jealous of you and how everyone likes you.” To my surprise, Ali did not seem upset. In fact she smiled and looped her arm around mine.
    “It's alright,” she said. “Everyone makes mistakes. You really do have a good voice, though, Kathrine.”
    “My grandma always said I did,” Just saying her name hurt. I tried to smile. “I'm just kind of afraid to.”
    “I was afraid when I started singing on stage too,” said Ali “but after awhile you get used to it.”
    “Do you think your voice teacher would give me lessons?”
    Ali nodded. “Definitely!” I was relieved. It seemed that overcoming your fears was not so bad after all.
    The next week I headed over to my first voice lesson. It was a beautiful spring day, school was finally over, and Dad and I had started the garden that morning. I was nervous, so I whispered a prayer asking for strength to overcome my fear. Peace filled my heart. Grandma had seemed to think this was what God wanted me to do, and I now believed she was right. Although there were many more fears to overcome ahead of me, I could not wait to see what God had planned for me.

A Library of Choices

     Eyes wide and jaw dropped, Timothy stared in wonder at his dream-like surroundings. Shelves of books towered above him in the large circular room. A domed roof covered the ancient library. Desks and couches for lounging and studying were arranged upon the green carpeted floor. Anxious to get started, Timothy headed toward the nearest book case. Which book should he read first? He scanned the first shelves eagerly. “May I help you?” Startled, Timothy spun around in search of the owner of the voice. “May I help you?” the voice repeated. Finally Timothy saw him. A librarian stood behind an ancient oak desk examining him closely with eyes that glowed bright orange like burning hot coals. They seemed to pierce right through his body to his soul. The man's long beard and hair were stark white like an old man's, but his skin was smooth like that of a young man. His suit was also stark white. “I know the best books.” the librarian said still staring at him.
    Timothy shivered. “No, thank you. I'll find something on my own,” he replied and hurriedly picked up a book off the shelf and headed towards the side of the room farthest from the creepy librarian. He sat down at a small desk and read the cover of the book he had grabbed. It read: Advanced Calculus for the Intellectual Mind by Matt Thay Mattix and A. Rith Matick. “What on earth is calculus?” muttered Timothy.
    “You seriously aren't going to read that, are you?” questioned a teen nearby about Timothy's age. “Nobody reads that type of junk anymore,” he mocked. “It's so not exciting.” Behind the boy stood a bunch of other kids who murmured in agreement. Timothy looked at the book again. It did look kind of boring. The boy yanked it out of his hands and threw it across the room. Timothy thought for sure the librarian would yell or kick them out, but he said nothing. He only stared at him and the other kids with sorrowful eyes. The boy and his buddies laughed. “Come with us! We will show you the best books. The ones that everybody reads.” They tugged him towards a room that Timothy had not seen when he first entered the library. Rows of desks with computers were crowded into the large room. Tons of teens sat at the desks, eyes fixed on the screens.
    “These aren't books!” exclaimed Timothy.
     “No, but they are the best.” replied the boy. “Come on! Let's have some fun.” He sat down at a desk. “You have to try this game. It's so real and the best battle game ever. You can blow people to pieces and everything!” Timothy eyed the computer. A note taped on the side read,  For Research Purposes Only. He pointed it out to the boy. “Don't worry about it. The librarian doesn't seem to care. He hasn't stopped us from doing anything. We've figured out how to get onto all of the blocked websites,” the boy declared. Not wanting to receive any criticism, Timothy said nothing. He only watched and listened. True to the boy's word, the game was very realistic. Timothy's stomach churned as a man blew up and the camera zoomed in on the smoldering body pieces. It was the goriest image he had ever seen, and it disgusted him as the boy laughed in delight. Timothy knew that if he did not leave the room, he would soon lose his lunch to the green carpet. He quickly got up from his seat. “Hey, where are you going?” shouted the boy as Timothy made his escape. Timothy did not look back but headed straight for the library doors.
    “Leaving so soon?” asked the librarian. “I have not shown you the best books yet.”
    Timothy stopped and faced the librarian. “Sir, they are not following the rules on the computers.”
    “I know.” replied the librarian.
    “Why don't you do something?” Timothy asked.
    “It is their choice.” he replied. “I tell them what is best, but they do not listen. Each will eventually pay for their choices; but what about you? Will you choose what is best?”
    “But what is best?”
    “I will show you.” The librarian led Timothy to a book case that was covered in dust. He carefully selected a book, blew off the dust, and handed it him.
    “Why are these ones so dusty?” Timothy asked as he accepted the book.
     The librarian was silent for a few moments and then replied, “No one wants to read the best books. They are afraid of being mocked for their choices. In order to avoid the scorn of others they do what everyone else seems to be doing at the moment.” He motioned to the crowded computer room and then back at the circular room in which they stood. “They indulge themselves in temporary thrill and gore, abandoning the lasting wisdom that can be obtained from books such as the one you now hold in your hand. Read and learn, Son.” Timothy examined the book in his hands. The cover looked ancient but in surprisingly good shape. In bold, gold letters the title read, A Good Choice by Timothy. Startled to see his own name, he looked up questioningly at the librarian only to find the kind, glowing eyes no longer there. The library itself was no longer there either. He stood at a store counter with a lady waiting impatiently for him to place his purchase choice on the counter. One of Timothy's friends who stood behind him in line nudged him forward. Timothy stepped forward and looked at the item in his hand. An R-rated movie screamed up at him.
    “Wait a minute,” Timothy said as he rushed towards the back of the store. “I think I'll get a book instead.” His friends just stared after him in disbelief.