The DPA staff would like to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! We could never put this newsletter together without your support and participation; we would therefore like to take this time to tell you so and give you our sincerest thanks. We wish you and yours a blessed Christmas season, and look forward to your continued support. -The DPA Staff
Drawing by Lea
On a Holy Night By Elizabeth Cairnie
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices A quiver races through the night, As a stone dropped in the sea; Men’s hearts to hopeful brim are full,
O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining
Of their humanity.
Starlight filters down through time, And floats upon the nightfall; Candle flames set in the sky, To guide the wanderers’ footfall.
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn A clear elucidation plays, A tune upon the skyline; Apathy’s pall has been cast off,
It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth
By rays of love divine.
The world is strained with anxious stillness, Waiting soundless for a Child, Promised once an age ago, When Man had been exiled.
Fall on your knees The shepherds and the noble kings, Are now as compeers bent, Offering gifts within them found,
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
And in their hearts repent.
A fog that blankets like a shroud, And stifles faith with fear, That swallows whole the sick at heart, And is moistened by their tears.
O hear the angel voices Upon the air resounds a song, As shining as the mist; A ceaseless movement swaying round,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth
Which time has never kissed.
So unassuming lying soft, Upon the golden hay, But luminescent grace shines forth, And beckons those astray.
O night divine, O night when Christ was born The Savior now has come to earth, His truth and glory shine! It is indeed a holy night, A holy night divine!
PRAYER FOR BEFORE STUDYNG OR READING A prayer which St. Thomas Aquinas was accustomed to recite every day before the image of Jesus Christ. Concede mihi, misericors Deus, quae tibi placita sunt ardenter concupiscere, prudenter investigare, veraciter agnoscere et perfecte adimplere, ad laudem et gloriam nominis tui. Amen. GRANT me grace, O merciful God, to desire ardently all that is pleasing to Thee, to examine it prudently, to acknowledge it truthfully, and to accomplish it perfectly, for the praise and glory of Thy name. Amen. Indulgence of 300 days to all the faithful who, before studying or reading, shall recite this prayer. â€” Leo XIII., June 21, 1879.
Long, long, and many years ago This language first appeared; For men grew loose With their words’ use ‘Til even God’s eyes teared
Though men deserved eternal fire, From word and deed alike, Our God above So full of love Gave men tools with which to fight
Men swore and cursed with tongues of hate And many a word was altered, Once innocent Now meanings bent On bad; and so men faltered
“It started,” said He, “with words of tongue, So ended shall it be.” And none could talk All stood and gawked ‘Til God set their tongues free
These altered words, they blackened hearts And actions followed suit In all the earth Filled evil mirth Of Satan’s stamping boot
As each angel softly touched the lip Of their small human charge, Immediately, There swept forth a sea As innocent words took new charge
All men grew coarse with disrespect And scorned all morals with sneers, While women vain With words profane, Mocked modesty with jeers
A fresh new language full of good, All pure and fair and sweet, And kindness ruled While honesty fueled Those contemplating deceit
And guardian angels cried their tears And asked for mercy from God To set things right Before the night Claimed many from devils’ fraud
And so we should think how important Are all the words we say, For tongues oft show Where actions will go; Keep your words kind today!
1¼ cups white sugar 2/3 cup
¼ cup salted butter 16 marshmallows (normal size) ¾ lb. semi-sweet chocolate chips 1 tbsp. vanilla extract 1½ cups coconut shavings
Combine the sugar, milk, butter, and marshmallows in a medium saucepan over medium high heat. Stir constantly until mixture is smooth. When mixture comes to a boil, continue stirring for about 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Add chocolate chips, vanilla, and 1 cup of coconut shavings. Stir until the chips have melted. Pour into a greased or buttered pan. Garnish with remaining coconut shavings. Let it sit in the fridge until firm. Enjoy!
The Onyx Legacy By Mara Ng Part 6
—◊♦◊~◊♦◊— Cassidy closed the door of the maintenance closet, and sighed deeply. “Phew! I finally lost E.T. She sure is persistent, running after me all this way. Not to mention scary with that look in her eyes!” She let herself sink slowly to the ground. She took a picture of her parents from her bag and stared sadly. “Mom, Dad,” she whispered, “why is it all coming back? I can remember everything again. You wanted the three of us to forget it all and live a peaceful life…but we’re being pulled back into this mess because of me! I’m really sorry I broke my promise!” Cassidy could see it all again.
The Onyx Special Research Armory was originally established by their parents with the help of their mom’s brother. All of them were scientists, but they each had their own specialties. Their mom was a doctor, their father was a chemist, and their uncle made different types of weapons for the army. When the Korius Disease surfaced, their mother was one of the doctors who searched for the cure, but all attempts ended in failure. At the same time, her brother, their uncle, was making a certain type of weapon for soldiers who were greatly
wounded in action. It was a microchip put into their brains that would help them control robotic arms or legs or even some weapons. When several of the soldiers with the microchip got infected by the disease, none of them died—though they all lost their memories. After this, all three scientists agreed to form the Onyx Special Research Armory in their search for the cure. The Onyx Project was made with the microchip as the basis to find a better cure. While they worked unceasingly, the OSRA headquarters was repeatedly attacked by people who wanted the cure. These people had many different reasons. Some wanted to sell it, others needed it desperately to cure themselves or people they knew, and many wanted to use it so that they would be immune to the disease. As a result of the attacks, they needed people to maintain tight security over the facilities. That was how the OSRA Legacy, or Onyx Legacy, was established. Many of the first members were other scientists who took professional training for combat, espionage, and other useful things. Then many children of those scientists began to train as well in reconnaissance because they all lived in the OSRA facilities. Cassidy also joined them, but Nick and Kate were still too young. Despite all the measures they took to protect the scientists and the data on the cure—which was still too unstable and dangerous, they never suspected that one of their own would betray them. One of the scientists who caught the disease was trying to get his hands on the cure for
himself. When he finally obtained the microchip and implanted it in his brain, he experienced many painful and sickening side effects. This fueled him to seek revenge on those who started the Onyx Project and failed to find the cure. He triggered an explosion in one of the facilities, which burned many of the buildings down, and killed many people in the process.
safe. We’re entrusting the cure to you now. Can you do this for us, Cassidy?”
When the fire started, their parents immediately brought Nick, Kate, and many other children and patients safely out of the building. Cassidy was nowhere to be seen, but when they went back to look for her, they discovered her helping some of the other scientists preserve the data. They yelled at them to get outside, and told Cassidy to find her siblings while they would preserve the cure themselves.
Cassidy tried to stop herself from bawling.
Cassidy followed their orders, took Nick and Kate to a safer place, and returned to the front of the building to wait for her parents. It seemed like ages until she finally saw them running for the entrance. But just when they were nearing the door, the roof collapsed, barring the way. Cassidy screamed their names and tried to get people to help her open the entrance, but no one was around. Suddenly, from a small crack in the blocked entrance, her parents were calling her. They told her to be brave for her siblings, and entrusted a small black stone on a string to her. “Cassidy, we will always love you and Nick and Kate,” her mother tried to keep her voice steady, but Cassidy could hear it faltering. “Take this necklace and keep it
“Y—yes,” she managed in between sobs. “That’s our girl,” her father sounded like the proud father he always was. “Don’t worry about us, Cassidy. We’ll love you always, and we’ll meet again in heaven someday.”
“Just remember this, Cassidy,” her parents were breathing heavily due to the smoke. “The key is in Orion’s belt.” Then the building collapsed. Cassidy fell onto her knees, unable to process what was happening. She felt alone. There was no one around, and now her parents were gone. She was frozen in that position, grasping the necklace in her hands. Afterwards, she had no idea or recollection of what she did. All she remembered was waking up in a hospital with her tearful little siblings staring at her face and begging her not to die like their parents. “I promise I’ll never leave you alone.” She told them firmly. “I promise.” Later on, an old doctor and trusted friend of their parents from the OSRA Legacy told her that they couldn’t find the scientist who started the fire. They didn’t find their uncle either, so they assumed he was dead. “So, we’re alone now,” Cassidy choked while rubbing the onyx with a tissue. “What’s going to happen to us?”
“You will be sent to an orphanage far from here. You’re name will no longer be Onyx. You must forget everything about the OSRA and the Korius disease,” the old doctor said firmly but with a tinge of pity. “I’m afraid we all have to go into hiding for now, little one. There is no other way. The man who did all this is still out there. And he’s looking for all of us right now.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid I too must leave you now. I have stayed here too long.” He put his hand on her head. “Be brave for your little brother and sister. Take care of them well.”
“I’ll protect them, doctor. We have to stick together because we only have each other now.”
“What about the people who are sick with the disease? What will happen to them?”
Beep. Beep. Beep. “This way! This way, Miss Evelyn!” the robot squealed.
The doctor’s eyes glistened with tears. “I didn’t want to tell this to such a young child, but I suspected that you would ask me this.” He paused for a few seconds. “None of those in our care survived. It truly is a great tragedy.” Cassidy was on the verge of tears, but the old doctor stopped her from crying. “Now, now. You have a duty to protect your younger siblings. I’m sure your parents would have expected you to do so.” He sighed. “And now, I must go. Take care! All we can do now for the people who have suffered is pray for them. You will pray? Yes, yes, of course you will. Ha! I do hope we will never have to meet again. That would mean that danger has resurfaced. That is not a good thing at all. No. Well! God protect us all! And now, goodbye, young Onyx! I must go.” Cassidy tried her best to summon enough courage while the old doctor walked out of the room with a sad smile.
Cassidy’s eyes were stinging, and her heart felt heavy. She sighed deeply. “Why do I feel so terrible? I know it’s because I had to lie to Nick, Kate, and Evelyn about a lot of things, but.... I can’t let anyone else get hurt. They entrusted the key to me, so I should look for it. I’ve caused everyone enough trouble already, so it’s the least I could do.”
“Oh no. Not REU02 again!” She left the maintenance closet and ran through the bright platinum-walled corridors without knowing where she was going. “I wonder if I’ll see Iris or Lynette. I really hope they haven’t been pulled into this mess though.” Cassidy ran and glanced behind every few minutes. Soon enough, she ran into another person. “Ow!” Cassidy fell onto the floor. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking.” The man offered her a hand. “That’s fine. I didn’t break anything, although you look like you need to see a doctor with that exhausted face.” When she looked at the man in the light, she saw a tall, young teenager, probably around her age. He had amber eyes that were nearly light brown but seemed to change to a golden shade under the light. His hair was a dark blond color with a few
strands covering his eyes. And his eyes seemed to twinkle while he smiled mischievously. She had to admit, he was pretty handsome. When she looked closer, Cassidy gasped.
seeing them after that.” They both paused for a while. Anything about the fire sobered them. “So, what have you been doing the past few years?” Spencer asked after a pause.
“Spencer! Oh my gosh! Is it really you?” Cassidy asked. “You’ve grown up so much! What are you doing here? It’s been years since we last saw each other!”
“Nothing really,” Cassidy answered. “Just trying to lie low. Well, until now at least. You?”
“Cassidy Onyx,” he laughed. “To think we’d actually meet again this way. So, why are you crying this time?” He smiled. “I’m sure it’s not something stupid like the last time you bumped into me. Anyway, it’s really nice to see you again. But honestly, I wasn’t able to recognize you at first. You’re starting to look more like your mom.” “I’m not crying. And seriously? I look like my Mom? How do you expect me to believe that?” Cassidy snorted. She couldn’t believe it because everyone said her mother was very beautiful. “I don’t look anything like her.” “That’s not true! You look really pretty.” Cassidy blushed. “You’re not the same scary little kid you used to be,” he teased. “Always shouting out orders and making us do all those extra exercises. Ah! You really were the drill sergeant of Onyx Legacy.” Cassidy frowned and rolled her eyes. Annoying. She thought. “Anyway, are Lynette and Iris here too?” “You haven’t seen them?” Spencer asked. “I haven’t seen them either. Maybe they’re not coming back. I know they survived the fire, but I don’t remember
“Same. Trying to lie low with my dad. All these years, he’s still been trying to find a cure.” That’s right. His parents were also scientists working on the cure. Cassidy could remember them. They were good people who were great friends of their parents. It was really sad, the old doctor told her, but only Spencer’s dad survived after OSRA was destroyed. Spencer’s mom passed away because of an asthma attack from the excessive smoke. “So, what brings you here, Cassidy? We were called back here after the new OSRA HQ was finished. We received a message from E.T. telling us to come here to continue the research on the cure. It’s not as dangerous as it used to be. Since the disease hasn’t been as wild as it was back then, there aren’t many people scrambling for the cure. Since you’re not a researcher, it really has me wondering why you’re here.” Cassidy didn’t know what to say. So many things had happened. It would be such a long story if she told him everything. “Well, it’s a really long story, so let me just say that E.T. found us and brought us back here for… protection.” “‘Protection’? ‘Us’? So your genius younger brother and your younger sister
are here too?” Spencer smiled. “I wonder how much they’ve grown! They were only five years old, right?” He gasped, and then paused. They both knew it sounded just like saying: they were five years old when your parents died. “I’m sorry, we weren’t able to meet after the fire, so I wasn’t able to say this before.” He sighed. “I’m really, really sorry about your parents. It must have been hard on the three of you.” Cassidy nodded her head. “I’m really sorry about your mom too.” She didn’t want to say anything about her own parents because Spencer would hear her voice shaking. They paused for a while, Cassidy maintaining a steel-like defense to hide her own grief while Spencer had an air of sadness. “But still…” Spencer smiled at her. “Nick and Kate are luckier than I am.” “What?” Cassidy looked at him cynically. “That’s a weird thing to say about children who lost both their parents. You still have your dad.” Spencer gave her an impish smile. “That’s true, but that’s not what I meant. I said they’re lucky because they have a really cool sister who’s always watching over them.” She shook her head. “Trust me; I’m not that good a sister.” “Oh? Well, I’m sure you’ll resolve whatever argument you just had. After all, you have to stick together because you only have each other left, right?” “Hey, those words—”
“Hmm? What about them?” He asked lightheartedly. “—so you were actually there?” “Ohhh…” Spencer pointed at his watch. “Oh, look at the time! Haha. I’ve got to go now.” He walked away briskly. “Wait!” Spencer turned his head to look at her, and smiled playfully. “It was nice to see you again, Cassidy Onyx!” Cassidy shook her head. Spencer was still annoying as ever even though he had grown so much. You look really pretty now. She felt embarrassed at his words. “Argh! What’s wrong with me?! Snap out of it, Cassidy. You look nothing like Mom! That annoying brat needs to have his eyes checked because he’s really wrong about that! But still… What he said that time was right. We only have each other.” She sighed. “I guess I was in the wrong this time. I’ll go back and apologize to Nick, and get the key back. I still have to keep my promise to Mom and Dad. I’ll take care of them, and find the cure at the same time.”
to be continued....
BY ANGIE SWINNEY
Batter: 2 ½ cups of almond flour ½ teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon ¼ teaspoon salt 2 eggs ½ cup yogurt ½ cup honey
Topping: ¾ tablespoon of ground cinnamon 2 tablespoons honey 1 tablespoon melted butter
Directions: Preheat the oven to 325° Fahrenheit. Mix all dry batter ingredients together in a medium bowl. Add wet batter ingredients. Pour into muffin cups. Mix all topping ingredients. Drizzle over muffins. Bake for 20-30 min or until lightly brown and tooth pick comes out with only small crumbs. Enjoy!
“Flight of the Christmas Star”
He did not obey the sacred Law Of God in life, so passed the night seeming
By Aug Trembilanse
Not to notice the sky teeming With angels silently proclaiming:
O Christmas Star, what did you see
“Glory to God and on earth, peace among men!”
On that night, twice a thousand years ago? What happened? What was to be? What did you see? What did you know? King, Shepherd, Wise men three, and lo! Angels from above sing so: “Glory to God, and on earth, peace among men!”
O Christmas Star, what did you see On the fields of the sheep? Shepherds of the plains Watching the flocks, humming quietly, When from on high a heavenly spirit came. “A child is born!” he proclaimed, And the celestial choirs chanted the refrain:
O Christmas Star, strength and love both,
“Glory to God and on earth, peace among men!”
Where the great god of Olympus reigning And gentle Venus plight their troth. O Star who on the world gently raining Light, guiding those who were remaining Away from the babe in the cave, feigning Indifference, but desiring the Son of Man.
O Christmas Star, what did you see? Three Magi coming from afar, Traveling through the town of Galilee, Following you, bright shining Christmas Star, To the stable in Bethlehem, cold and dark, But warm and bright by the Savior’s light, marred
O Christmas Star, what did you see In the rich courts and halls of stone
Not by evil and sin, the stable where was born the Son of Man.
By the gardens and fountains and trees? The King of Judah on his throne,
O Christmas Star, what did you see
Herod the Great, waiting alone
In Israel, that House of Bread?
For the wise men, had, in his heart, sown
A baby cuddled on his mother’s knee
The seed of hatred for the King of Men.
In a cave where the animals are fed, By the child, three great kings were led,
O Christmas Star, you Herod saw
Shepherds worshipped and the Angels said:
But did not comprehend your meaning.
“Glory to God and on earth, peace among men!”
Photos by Anna
"What is Laughter?" By Elizabeth Cairnie
What is laughter but a brook? And sorrow but a cloud? With upset falling like a hail To lie upon the ground.
Be then aloneness but a fog that furrows into night? And tingling morning mist a sea, translucent with delight?
“Where Do They All Come From?” by Madison Kearney 2012 Seton Grad Sammy leaned his curly head against the window, and watched the trees and power lines blur past. His little hands were clasped protectively on the precious carton of eggs Mother had entrusted to him. He could hear the soft drizzle that harmlessly struck the windshield, and saw the wipers rudely cast the droplets aside. His mother’s small hat titled from side to side as she hummed softly to the new song playing on the radio, her hands upon the steering wheel. Sammy looked back out the window as Paul McCartney crooned: “Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been – lives in a dream . . .” At this line, Sammy frowned as a thought hit his young mind. He turned it over and over like a pancake, until it could be put into words. “Mother,” he spoke, “do you think Miss Freeman across the street is like the lady in the song?” “What?” Mother exclaimed, surprised. “Eleanor Rigby,” Sammy continued. “Don’t you think she and Miss Freeman have a lot in common?” “Well, I –” Mother stammered.
Sammy could see that Mother did not understand him. “Well,” he explained patiently, his olive eyes wide and solemn, “they are both very lonely ladies and probably quite sad, aren’t they?” “Yes, I suppose so, dear.” “But why?” Sammy asked, though more to himself. “Why are they so sad and lonely? Why aren’t they happy like everyone else?” “We mustn’t speculate about other people,” Mother chided gently. “It is unkind.” So Sammy did not say another word about Miss Freeman, but when he got home and helped Mother take in the groceries, Sammy went up to his room to stare thoughtfully at the shabby little cottage across from his own pleasant, cheerful home. He did not know Miss Freeman. All he knew was that she was a queer old lady whom everyone avoided because of her bad luck, whatever that was. She was a thin, frail woman in her early seventies, and had lived in that house ever since she was a little girl. Her daily routine never changed. Early in the morning, rain or shine, she would go tend to her garden. Then her errand boy would arrive with whatever items she needed for the day. Then she vanished into the house and did not show herself until three o’ clock struck. At that hour, Miss Freeman would appear at the window, wearing dainty
clothes, a prim, laced hat, and a bit of red lipstick, as if she was going to church. And there she would sit. And sit. And sit until the city clock tolled five. Then she would draw the curtain and disappear until the rosy touch of dawn stirred her. “All the lonely people, where do they all come from?” Sammy did not know why she sat there; indeed, no one did. There were rumors and theories, but the people preferred to ignore Miss Freeman altogether. Sammy thought this shunning made her sad. He had ridden past her house twice on his bicycle, and had seen that her eyes were dim and lifeless. She never smiled back when he tentatively waved, but watched him with a dull stare before bending her creaking back over the pumpkin patch. Sammy felt sorry for her. His young heart protested at the thought that one could be so miserable. Life was so good and beautiful. Miss Freeman should enjoy it. A week later, Sammy entered the kitchen, drawn by the aroma of cookies. “Chocolate chip!” he cried. “Mother, can I have one, please?” Mother merely smiled and raised her eyes expectantly. Sammy grinned, embarrassed. “Mother, may I have a cookie, please?” he tried again. “Yes, you may, dear,” Mother smiled approvingly. Sammy bit into the warm, soft cookie, and tasted the chocolate melting on
his tongue. Then after that first savor, he devoured it in a heartbeat. Sammy leaned his stool against the counter and observed Mother’s quick and expert hands. “Mother,” he said suddenly, “may I take some of those cookies over to Miss Freeman?” Mother smiled gently. “Yes, you may. I think she’d like that. Just make sure you only give her the cookies – don’t bother her. And be on your best behavior,” she added encouragingly as she saw Sammy and the cookies safely out the door. Sammy felt a bit shaky in the knees as he crossed the street. The afternoon was cloudy, and the breeze swept the leaves on Miss Freeman’s porch with a crisp whish. He went up the creaky steps, and then held his breath as he knocked. He shifted a little as several seconds passed, then straightened instantly when a lock was unchained. The door opened to reveal a small old woman with half-moon glasses and a ball of powdered, curled hair. “Miss Freeman?” Sammy said hesitantly, looking in awe at the recluse. “My name is Sammy, and I live across from you. My mother thought you might like some cookies.” He offered her the flowered tin, which she slowly accepted. She studied it for a moment, holding it in her bony hands. “They’re chocolate chip cookies,” Sammy ventured.
Miss Freeman nodded, then peered at the boy. “Would you – would you like to come in?” Her voice was high and raspy. “Mother says I’m not to bother you,” Sammy answered innocently. “It would be no bother.” She glanced from the tin to the boy, unsure of how to address a child. “I can’t eat all these cookies by myself,” Miss Freeman tried to smile, though she was too harsh. “The milk man just came by this morning.” So Sammy stepped in at her bidding, and found himself in a dark little entry hall. A mirror and a square wooden table with a jar on it stood by the door. He followed her past a prim sitting room with old, soft furniture. This room, too, was dim. The kitchen was better lit, and possessed many feminine charms, though they were all of bygone days. The lace was yellow, and the flowers were crumbled and deceased. Miss Freeman took two china plates from a little cupboard, setting two cookies on one plate and, after a moment’s consideration, three cookies on the second. After laying the plate of three before Sammy, she poured two glass goblets of milk. She sat down and folded a laced napkin on her flowered lap before taking a cookie and dipping it into her milk. It was then that she saw Sammy regarding her. “Don’t you dunk your cookies?” she demanded harshly.
“Oh yes,” Sammy nodded vigorously. “But I thought you did it because you were like my grandpa.” “Oh?” “Yes, ma’am, he doesn’t have any teeth.” “Well,” Miss Freeman answered in a superior manner, “I am happy to say that I have all of my teeth. But it is a habit from my girlhood,” she admitted with a tiny, wistful smile. At that moment, the grand clock in the parlor cried three. Miss Freeman looked up and rose, laying her dishes on the counter. Sammy followed her, curious, as she went into the entry hall. As she began to reach for the jar, lyrics swarmed into Sammy’s head: “Waits by the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door . . .” “Who is it for?” Sammy heard himself murmur. Miss Freeman turned to him. “Arnold,” she whispered. She returned to adjusting her hat. “Will you sit with me?” she asked when her lipstick was on. Sammy nodded and followed the old lady into the parlor, where she drew back the rose-colored curtain and sat upon a babyblue sofa. Sammy took a peach armchair, and was respectfully silent, forcing himself to stay still. Half an hour crawled slowly by. Sammy was wondering if his mother
would mind that he did not come home when suddenly, Miss Freeman spoke. “He was going to come home,” she murmured, gazing down the street. “I received a letter from him – it’s still in my pocket.” She extracted an aged bit of paper. “He was in France at the time. He told me he would come home on the two forty-five train. His last lines were ‘Wait for me, dearest Bertha; we won’t be apart much longer.’ I believed him. I loved him and had every confidence in him. And so I waited for him. But he didn’t come. Instead, a strange army man came at five and told me that Arnold was dead. That Arnold wasn’t coming back. Even when I touched his coffin, I could not believe it. He told me he would come for me and that I was to wait. And so I have waited. For forty-eight long years I’ve waited, and I’ll wait until I die.” Suddenly, the clock announced five o’ clock. Miss Freeman sighed. “But Arnold isn’t coming today.” Turning to Sammy, she asked, “Would you like to come again sometime?” “Oh, yes,” Sammy nodded. Once he was home, Mother did not scold but merely hugged Sammy. After he had told her about his afternoon, she shook her head. “That poor lady,” she sighed, kissing Sammy. As the boy went to wash for dinner, he found himself wondering, “All the lonely people, where do they all belong?”
He visited Miss Freeman, bringing a small casserole. Once again, he sat quietly with her. “I fell in love with him almost instantly. We met at a carnival – the same one you have here every year – and he spilled his drink all over my crisp white dress, spoiling it. I was angry and shocked at first, but he apologized so beautifully and for so long that I had to forgive him. My brother knew him from college, and invited him to join our little group. He was a very amiable and easy boy, and it was clear that he fancied me. It was not long before he started coming to the house . . .” “Then came the Great War,” she continued another time. “I didn’t want him to go, but he was so determined and patriotic . . . and I knew in my heart that I would have hated him if he hadn’t gone. But I was always so afraid for him. But never mind, he’ll come back, just not today . . .” After two months of visiting Miss Freeman, Sammy saw her one Sunday at church – the first time she had appeared in public in forty-eight years. Mother nudged Sammy, who turned back to the priest, who was preaching half-heartedly to the townspeople who did not want to be there. Another line popped into Sammy’s mind: “Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear . . .” Later, Sammy hopped down the steps, and saw Miss Freeman making her
way slowly to the sidewalk. The townspeople eyed her warily, but made no move to aid the old lady. “Good morning, Miss Freeman,” Sammy greeted politely. Miss Freeman turned. “Oh, Sammy!” Then she spied the staring, judging people. “Go on, dear, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you next week,” she smiled. Then she hobbled out of the public gaze. Sammy saw her that Saturday, and did so for a year and a half, waiting, always waiting, for the Arnold that never came. Miss Freeman, meanwhile, grew weaker until she could not leave her bed. Then one day, Sammy entered the house to find the parish priest with her.
else kept to their houses on that cloudy, misty morning. Once it was time to leave the fresh grave, the last verses of “Eleanor Rigby” rang through Sammy: “Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave – no one was saved . . . All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
“Miss Freeman?” Sammy said anxiously. “Sammy,” she whispered. “Wait with me.” Sammy held her hand while the priest murmured prayers. Miss Freeman’s breath became heavy, and she began to murmur, “Arnold? Arnold? Does anyone see him?” “Not yet,” Sammy answered, his throat tight. “But he’ll come – he said he would.” “Yes. Yes, he did.” Miss Freeman was silent, and closed her eyes. Then she sighed, “But he is not coming today . . .” Sammy and his parents were the only mourners at her funeral. Everyone
The Christmas Poem By Kyra Clark On this night not long ago, Lay a Babe all aglow. Sleeping soundly amidst the hay, While those around knelt to pray.
With the help from angels above, Shepherds came to show their love. Rejoicing for the Newborn King, As angelic voices began to sing.
Wise men came to pay respect, And upon their knees, Cried and wept. Here lay the silent Child, For whom weâ€™ve waited all this while.
Christ the Savior was born today, And every year we celebrate, The sacred birth of Our Holy King, Blessed Creator of all things.
May God protect you this coming year, And rid your heart of any fear, As we thank Christ for His trust, The true reason of Christmas.
Contributors: Manager: Ashley Miller
Stephanie Miller Editor: Natalie Kellner Assistant Editor: Mara Ng Design: Mary Schmitt