Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Ode to Fall

Hands down, Fall is my favorite season.  Children head back to school, brand new backpacks and crayons in tow.  The heat begins to subside, giving way to cool evenings – perfect for walking.  The trees slowly begin to turn, and suddenly, everything is transformed into a world of golden yellows, fiery reds, and warm oranges.  Pumpkins appear outside grocery stores and are carted away to people’s front porches.  It is the time of year when the world is expected to smell of cinnamon and pumpkin pie.

Granted, while Fall in Iowa is accompanied by leaves crunching underfoot, Fall in Washington is not quite the same.  In Washington, it rains, and the leaves are often transformed into a soggy mess.  But despite the damp weather, some of my favorite Falls took place there.
           
My grandparents had two huge maple trees in their front yard, and every Fall, thousands of leaves would fall from their sturdy limbs.  The yard would slowly fill.  Higher and higher and higher.  My sisters and I would appear with rakes that were twice our size, and we would rake up this wonderland of leaves.  We gathered a pile beneath one of the maples, and carefully, we climbed a wobbly ladder propped up behind the tree.  Once in the tree, we would stand looming over the pile.  From our youthful perspective, the pile of leaves appeared to be ten stories below us, and we had to muster every inch of our courage we had to jump.
           
One,
                       
Two,
                                   
Three!
           
We flew through the air and landed with a crunch into the leaves.  We rolled out of the pile laughing, begging to do it again.  And again and again and again.  We soon had leaves in our hair, in our clothes, and even in our underpants.  But we jumped out of that tree all afternoon, laughing with delight after ever courageous leap.
           
I will never forget those delightful Fall afternoons spent jumping.  However, the maple trees are now old, some of their branches have been cut down, and our jumping spot has long since disappeared.  All that exists now are the memories.  Memories conjured up every time I walk outside and hear Fall beneath my feet.
           
Crunch.  Crunch.
           
Crunch.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Atrocities and Miracles

This essay was written a year ago and is not perfect: I have been told that the ending is too much of a "shock" and needs to be hinted at more throughout the essay. However, this essay is meant for this day in history.

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Sept. 11, 01: “Today will probably be in history books all over the U.S. Four plains crashed, two in the World Trade Center in New York, one right after each other. One in the Pentigon at the White House, and the other in Pennsylvania. I heared the teroest put a gun by the pilates head and told him he’d kill him if he didn’t crash were he told him to. The plain that landed in Pennsylania they figure crashed because he didn’t want to crash were the man told him. They don’t know who did it. 200 firemen were killed trying to save people. Two inches of ash covered the ground by the World trade center. Alot of people died. Isaiah 41:10   So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will straighten you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

The alarm clock screams for me to wake up at 7:00 a.m.  Bleary-eyed, I pull on my jeans and a shirt bought from the end-of-summer sale at JC Penney.  I yank the tangles out of my hair, methodically brush my teeth, and throw a ham sandwich into my lunch pail.  On my way past the computer desk, I glance at a picture of a Chinese girl cut out of LifeLines magazine that my parents taped up.  I snatch up my backpack from the floor and grab the last of my homework as I head out the door.  Today is just like any other day, and my dad drives me to school at precisely 8:15.

I arrive at Ebenezer before most of the other students; I put my homework in the homework bin and place my books in my desk.  I hear the buses arrive, the hissing sound of the brakes being hit and the bus settling back into its stopped position.  The murmur of my classmates grows closer and closer as they approach the door.

“Did you hear?  Did you hear?  The twin towers were hit by planes just this morning!”  Everyone’s voices blend together as the news bursts out.  Being sixth graders, the terrorist attack on America was the biggest news that had come into our lives since Leroy kissed Becky behind the school.  The attack of the World Trade Center would overshadow all other events that occurred throughout the world that day, and we were trying our hardest to comprehend the severity of the situation.  But we were only sixth graders.

We lived across the country from this horrendous act: all the violence and devastation was out of our reach.  How does one comprehend the idea of an American trademark now crumbled to the ground?  The thousands of people instantly killed?  The impact on our country?  How were we to know that the events of this day would affect the rest of our lives forever? 

My parents waited for my sisters and me at home after school that day, and together we watched the news on TV.  We never watched the news in my household, but this day was special.  We watched the replays of the planes crashing into the towers dozens of times: it was almost as if the newscasters hoped that if they played the scene over and over, the planes would not crash.  Maybe one of these times, everything would return to normal.

I wrote a diary entry, my sixth-grade-mind trying as hard as it could to capture this day on a piece of paper.  I wrote and wrote, and I brought my diary out of my room to my dad.  “Does this sound okay?” I asked. 

He read it carefully, paying no attention to my spelling errors.  As I knelt beside his chair waiting for him to finish, he looked over at me and suggested that I add a Bible verse to the end.  He gently scratched his beard and said to look up Isaiah 41:10.

I hurried off to my room and added the verse.  Then, I shut my diary, took out the key, and locked it.  September 11 would never again be just a day in the beginning of September, and now, my memories of this day would forever be sealed inside a locked book with bears having a tea party on the cover.

This diary now sits inside a trunk alongside many other childhood memories.  Knickknacks one of my aunts sent me from around the world.  Key chains from family vacations to Yellowstone and the Oregon Coast.  A deck of Winnie-the-Pooh playing cards that were crinkled when a little black-haired sister accidently spilt Ramen noodles on them.  My diary got moved around in the shuffle over the years, but I know it’s there in my trunk, safely stowing away my memories.  Someday, I will be able to show it to my children and recollect the atrocities that occurred on September 11, atrocities that they too may have a hard time understanding, atrocities that will be remembered in the hearts of Americans for years to come.

But I can also tell my children that there is more to this day than the Twin Towers falling to the ground – much, much more.

Incredibly, September 11 will always hold a special place in my heart.  Halfway across the world in the early morning hours of this now revered day, one precious baby was left by her mother in front of an orphanage in Ruijin, China.  The orphanage workers found her on their way into the building and took her under their wings.  Nine months later, this little girl became my sister, Anna Rui Wen DeWaard.  She stands in complete opposition to everything September 11 embodies in America.  On this day of disaster, she stands as a miracle.  She was abandoned by her mother for unknown reasons, but this act of abandonment is what allowed her to transform my family.

I remember all the details of that September morning that should have been no different than any other, but I also have the memory of my sister being left at an orphanage gate, waiting for someone to take her in.  I have the knowledge that in spite of the horrors, God can also work miracles.  “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”