Christmas Break and Gramma's Birthday!

Merry Christmas!!
I know that it's not Christmas yet, but our Christmas break from school officially started today! Everything went great from the movie (The Smurfs) to the food to the gifts! Thanks to everyone for being so awesome! Oh, but the best part is...... IT FINALLY SNOWED! Now it can officially be Christmas season! Who would have thought it would have taken so long to SNOW in IDAHO! But it's happened before, and there is snow now! :D


Happy Birthday Gramma Farr!
Today, December 21, the winter solstice, is my Grandma Farr's birthday! She is on her mission with my Grampa in Carlsbad California! I love her and all that she's doing!!
Merry Christmas to everybody!

Who's Birthday

Today I've been surrounded by the emphasis of the true meaning of Christmas. All day I couldn't help but wonder about the one person who doesn't get proper gifts on Christmas. Next Christmas is Jesus' birthday, but He won't be expecting money, toys, or an iPod. All He wants for His birthday is for people to accept Him and be examples of what He did. I want to give Christ a present this year, and I hope that I can make it half as meaningful as what He did for me. Even one tenth as meaningful would be completely satisfying. I love my Savior and I'm going to try my hardest this week and the coming years, what to get for Him for His birthdays. I'm grateful for all the people who have been there showing me that they understand the true meaning of Christmas. I'm up for the challenge!

Just a small-town boy serving the Lord in San Diego California! He found himself a Lamborghini! Well, a few of them.










He also found a horse! He's an Idaho boy!

Me

I didn't plan on posting this one (a brief sketch of my time in my creative writing class) but... Why Not? :D All posts "My Front Porch" through this one are from my Creative Writing final portfolio that I titled "The Pieces of Me."

This class has been my favorite class that I have ever taken, and am sad to see it come to an end. I’ve learned so much in this class. I was so excited to take this class, if a bit nervous. I’ve always loved writing and I was excited to learn how to better my writing. I learned a lot; not necessarily just about writing, but also about myself. Bird by bird was an immense help in learning how to connect to my inner self and let the words come. Anne Lamott gave great advice all through her book on how get to know myself better and how that would help me write. I loved reading the writings of all the other students and seeing their own personalities show in their works. Through this class I have found the ability to draw on my writing more of when I want to.

This class presented challenges, which I accepted excitedly, and assignments that came fairly easy to me. My favorite assignments, though hard to pick from all of them, were the short story of unit 3 and the poetry of units 2 and 5. I loved how the short story turned out, and I got a lot of comments on it from friends and family. I did struggle a bit with writer’s block on it, but it came together very nicely. I’ve always loved poetry, and I loved that both poems I wrote were free-verse. The hardest things for me were the two poetry slams. The slams themselves were surprisingly fun, but the anticipation of having to put myself out there to people I didn’t know was terrifying. I learned from the poetry slams and the comments of Ms. Fuller and the class that my writing is good and that I shouldn’t be afraid to put it out there.

I plan to keep writing all my life, even if I never get published. I hope to have my grandmother, an author and poet and my inspiration, help me if ever I do have something I would like to publish. I can’t wait to share my final portfolio with friends and family. As this class draws to an end, I tend to feel sad, but I know that I must take Dr. Seuss’ words to heart when he said, “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”

Now I Never Underestimate the Impossible

 “Unsinkable ships sink. Unbreakable walls break. Sometimes the things you think could never happen happen just like that. Unbendable steel bends, if the fury of the wind is unstoppable. I’ve learned to never underestimate, The Impossible.” ~Joe Nichols “The Impossible”

            This song came out only months before my dad fractured his skull. I wish, that I could tell Joe Nichols and the song writers how all too fitting the chorus to this song was at that time. My dad, to me, was unbreakable, he was everything that the dad in this song was, and his accident made my nine-year-old self learn “to never underestimate the impossible.” This is when “the impossible” happened.

            It was a nice, sunny, warm day in August. We were living in the Sheep Station in the house we have now named the “strawberry house”. We named it because it was the third house we lived at in the sheep station and it got its name from the patch of strawberries that grew in the backyard. Another, more fitting name for this house would be the “fractured skull house.” Both my dad and sister fractured their skulls there, but I’ll only tell of one. On that August day, my dad planned on cutting firewood with a neighbor, Shane. My mom stayed home with me and my four siblings and left the wood cutting to the men.

            Soon, we got a call from Shane. He told us that my dad never showed up to where they were going to meet. My mom was worried, and decided to go look for him herself. She trusted my siblings and me to be fine until she got back. We played like the carefree children we were while she was gone.

Soon after she had left, my dad walked in the back door. We all knew that something was wrong. I could see that one side of his face, around the eye, was purple and swollen and his ear was bleeding. He went right to my parents’ room and lay down on their bed. My brother called my mom’s cell phone and told her that he had come back. She rushed home and called the ambulance and our neighbor, Sandy. It was a tense and scary time of waiting, to say the least.

The ambulance came and loaded him up on the stretcher. The nearest hospital is in Idaho Falls, and so he and my mom were in for a long trip. I had to hold the door open as they carried him through our front door. His one open blue eye looked at me as he went past. I was beyond words. My dad- who always took pain with little reaction; who was the football and wrestling coach; a cowboy and a trapper- was strapped to a stretcher with an oxygen mask, and I didn’t know what would happen next. I was scared.

We spent that night at Sandy’s house while my dad and mom were in the hospital and my grandma and aunt made their way up from Utah. I don’t remember a lot of what I felt then, but I wasn’t in my own home and my parents were gone; I’m sure it was uncomfortable. We spent the rest of the week with my grandma and aunt and they each took turns visiting my dad in the hospital. We made a lot of memories even though it was a rough time. Dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets will now always hold a place in my memories and make me smile.

The only things we knew about the accident were what my mom wrote down in a journal from my dad as he forgot and remembered new things in the hospital. Now he doesn’t remember a whole lot from it and the journal is a blessing. It also contains things written from my grandma, aunt, and mom about their feelings on the situation. We kids also drew pictures. This is what we have written down:

My dad said that as he was waiting for Shane, he decided to start cutting in Alex Draw (near where they were going to meet). He doesn’t remember much more than starting on the back cut on the first tree and then waking up face-down in the dirt. He, not realizing the full situation, stood up and got back to cutting the log, mentally chastising himself for sleeping. He woke up again in the dirt and for a while drifted in and out of consciousness, saying a prayer in one of his waking moments. He finally woke to rain falling on his face. He knew something was wrong and he needed to get up, so he got up and pulled himself into the truck. He doesn’t remember any of the drive home, but he made the 15 or so miles back to our house- driving all the way back by himself in an old pickup truck.

It was a great feeling when my dad was finally released from the hospital. It was especially good to know that he was alright considering that a guy had died from a similarly shaped fracture around the same time. I realized that my dad was the “unbreakable wall” that was broken. It was hard to see my dad not as strong as I first thought. Broken walls can be fixed, especially if it’s only a crack. To this day my dad has survived that facture, walked away from an airplane crash, and much more and he is, although not unbreakable, a very strong wall. Because of this event:

“I’ve learned to never underestimate the impossible.”

Allison's Angel

A girl wakes up in a clearing somewhere in a forest. She sits up, confusion prominent on her face, as she looks around with her big green eyes at her strange surroundings. She wears a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans. Her long blonde hair dances in the breeze. She notices a figure emerge from the shade of the trees. It is a man, a boy rather, seemingly not much older than she. He appears calm and is also wearing a white t-shirt and some jeans.

Boy (with a smile): Hello Allison.
Allison (clearly shocked): How... how do you know my name?
Boy: Oh, I know everything about you. I've known you your whole life.
Allison (even more confused): Who are you?
Boy: I, Allison, am Michael, your guardian angel.
Allison (slowly): Guardian angel? But... I ... I don't understand.
Michael: Yes, your guardian angel. I guess I should explain things. First of all, every person is entitled a guardian angel at birth. These angles have lived and experienced a life before. We are assigned to take care of and encourage whomever we are assigned to. Long story short- I am the voice you hear when you are lost or scared or discouraged. Second, (he walks over and helps Allison off the ground) I brought us here because there is something I have to tell you.
Allison (now standing, warily asks): Where, exactly, is "here"?
Michael: We are in the forests on the west side of the Rocky Mountains. Or, at least, that is what you are seeing all around you.
Allison: But, I don't remember coming here! I have got to be dreaming!
(She runs her fingers through her golden hair and paces around the clearing in silence)
Michael: I know this is... alarming, to say the least, but I need you to know something.
Allison (still unsure): Okay...
Michael: I know this will be hard to hear, and even harder to believe, but you are about to face something very dangerous in your life. I will be able to guide you through this trial, as I have in others, but you must listen to me.
Allison (to herself): I cannot believe I am hearing this! (Then to Michael) How dangerous, exactly, are we talking? And... And when is this going to happen, exactly?
Michael (frustrated): I don't know! A week, a few months, a few days. I don't know, but you must believe me!
Allison (slightly hysterical and very sarcastic): Oh, what a great help you are! You can't even tell me when this is all going down or what I'm even up against!
Michael (still frustrated): You don't understand! I am here to guide you and help you, not to tell you the future! (More calmly) You have to promise me to take this seriously. When the time comes, listen for my voice, and do not forget my warning.

(A long silence; Allison sits back down and plucks a flower from the ground. She stares at its yellow petals, deep in thought.)
Allison (slowly at first): I... I don't think I can promise anything, but... I will try to listen and remember.
(Michael sits down next to Allison and places his hand on her shoulder)
Allison (with her head in her hands): This is all just so fast and confusing.
Michael (smiling): I know, but you don't need to worry. I've got your back.
Allison (looking up into Michael's suddenly familiar eyes): I trust you.
Michael: Good, now we've got to get back. Just listen for my voice; you'll be okay!
Allison (suddenly tired): I will: I'll listen for you.
(Allison yawns and slowly lays down on the soft, green grass of the meadow. Then, all goes dark.)

___________________________________________________________­­­___________________________

A girl wakes up in her bed. Her alarm clock reads 7:30 am. She hears people moving around in the kitchen down the hall.

The girl's mother (calling from the kitchen): Allison! Are you up? I need
help getting these pancakes made!
Allison: I'm coming!
(Allison looks in the mirror, her messy blonde hair adding to the look of confusion on her face.)

Allison (to herself): It... It all seemed so real. I can't believe it was just a dream.
(She rubs her eyes and brushes her hair, shaking off the dream that still lingered behind her eyelids. As she leaves her room she hears...)

"I've got your back. Just listen for my voice."

(Allison smiles, and relaxes, knowing that all would be just fine.)

Dad at the Doctor's

Do you remember, no so long ago, when you were a kid and the doctor’s office was full of surprises? Maybe the doctor’s office has more unhappy memories for you, but not me. I remember looking through the various drawers and cupboards, searching for the stash of suckers that had to be there somewhere. Mom would always rein my siblings and me in before we started climbing on the counter to the higher cabinets. And we never were able to get those rubber gloves within our grasps. She could not keep us from the doctor’s rotating chair; at least not for a spin or two. We- now all teenagers- have learned to restrain ourselves a bit. Maybe we just all know what’s in the drawers for the most part, and we are only interested in the rubber gloves we are now easily able to reach. I am old enough now to realize why we might still be so mischievous, although less than before; my dad.

            Now, let me tell my story before you start to wonder at my short answer. The day I realized that my siblings and I learned from my dad, he came with my mom and me to an appointment. I had had a bad earache for a week or so-- which isn’t abnormal-- and we figured it was probably another infection. My dad usually has work to do at home when we go to Idaho Falls, but he had to pick something up, so he came this time.

            It was a Saturday, so the office was pretty busy and we knew that we’d probably have to wait a while to be seen, even though we already had an appointment set. When we were finally called back and had the basic blood pressure test, temperature taken, etc., the nurse told us that the doctor would be a while, but he would be in to see us as soon as possible. The room, with its freshly disinfected and sanitized air, was deceivingly innocent looking. Dad, however, smelled adventure. My dad took the nurse’s “make yourselves comfortable” as the starting gun!

            As soon as the door clicked closed, he was off. My mom and I just watched, glad that no one could see, as dad explored the many spaces with a mischievous attitude like that of a child who has been left in a room of fine silks with a pair of scissors. It didn’t take long for him to find the rubber gloves. He put the opening to his mouth and blew. The air filled the finger spaces and the glove expanded like a balloon. Then he put it above his head and strutted around like a rooster. The cock’s comb that the fingers created wiggled and swayed as he walked around. As he continued his investigation, still playing with the glove, he found the stash of Dum-Dum suckers, one of which he quickly swiped. I saw the wrapper and knew that it was blue raspberry, my favorite. For some reason just thinking of the tart, sweet taste of the lollipop made my mouth water.

            When he got bored with the glove, he looked around for his next toy. His eyes fell on the rotating stool on wheels that the doctor sits on when he comes in. I could see the idea instantly light up his eyes and I knew what would happen. He sat on the chair and began pushing himself in circles, gently at first. He soon picked up speed and lifted his feet off the ground. I don’t know if you know this, but if you get a chair like that spinning too fast, it’s near impossible to keep balanced. It started wobbling while it was spinning at top speed. It lurched forward throwing my dad to the floor. The chair kept spinning and ran into a lamp, knocking it over. I caught it just before it hit the hard, blue-carpeted floor. Sweat started to bead my forehead. Whew! That was close, I thought. Dad’s fall left him laughing on the ground, but I was worried that a nurse or a doctor had walked by the closed door and heard the commotion of dad’s crash. The doorknob didn’t move. We were safe.

            Mom and I just shook our heads and tried to be patient. Dad found the old blood pressure cuff, the one that was stored on a shelf on the wall. He decided that it seemed like fun and began to busy himself with pumping air into the cuff that he put on his arm. He sat on the bench that was meant for patients while he did this. And let me remind you that I was the patient this time. The doctor walked in as Dad was releasing the air from the cuff for the third time. Sadly, the look on his face made me believe that the sight which he saw now was not uncommon. I guess I was slightly comforted knowing that it wasn’t only my dad who goofed off like this.

            The rest of the appointment went smoothly and we were able to leave the building without more than a stolen lollipop and a ballooned glove. So now you maybe have a clearer idea of why we are so impish at the doctor’s. Taking my dad to appointments is amusing, if not worrisome. The memories are not things I plan on forgetting anytime soon. I wouldn’t have my dad any other way.

The Prayer of a Hood

I’m a gangbanger,

A trouble maker,

Livin’ on the streets,

Trying not to get beat.

My life is hard,

But it’s made me tough,

And taught me all the right street stuff.

I don’t need a dad,

A Camaro or ‘Stang.

I’m fine by myself,

All I need is all I own.

This is what I thought,

Before I got shot.

Now I’m lying here,

And no one seems to care.

Now comes the first tear,

Of many years.

I think it’s not fair,

That ‘cause of the holes in my jeans,

And the grease in my hair,

My life had to end.

It’s cruel and mean.

I’m lying here in my own blood,

Thinking of what could have been,

If I’d a dad and mom who cared.

If there was no grease in my hair,

I would not be dying here.

If I lived south of the tracks, you see,

Lying here, I would not be.

But life didn’t quite work out that way.

You called me a hood,

And some said that I’m no good,

And Hinton called me a greaser.

Police called me a nuisance,

Rich kids called me a loser,

And my mom didn’t care

To call me at all.

Some called me sick.

Some called me crazed.

But if they saw me in this daze,

They’d see that I am just a kid.

That, when parents cared, mine never did.

They’d see the boy so scared in side.

They’d see the shame of how I died.

So a gangbanger I’ll be no more,

I’m a casualty of this life war.

And so with my last breath I leave,

A prayer for the hoods and greasers like me,

To take away all the hate,

That all too quickly brought my fate.

Goodbye to all my worries,

And to the bullets and the lies.

The life of a gangbanger,

Came by no choice of me,

And is nothing to despise.