Writing with Hope

What is the point of a story if it does not bring hope? What is the point if all a story brings is sadness, hardship, despair, and evil? Is not the world full enough already with those things without us adding to them? If you want to see evil, if you want to feel pain, look at the world around you. It does not take much looking to see the suffering. It does not take much looking to see the evil. Why must we create more of it in our stories?

And yet, there is a place for sadness, and evil, and pain in tales that we write, for it can bring change and healing. Without it, the stories would be lifeless, mere platitudes, yes even a mockery to those in pain. For life truly is full of all those things. So how can I speak out of both sides of my mouth then saying we must not write evil and yet we must write evil? 

It is the evil without hope that I write against. Stories must end in hope--even if just a glimmer of it--for stories show us life. And to give up hope, is to up life. 

For a christian especially there is hope, even in death--especially in death. It is sometimes the privilege of  stories to reveal that hope in our lives, or to recall it to us when it grows dim, and we seem to have lost it. 

If it ever comes to a point where our stories lose all hope and happy ends, it will be a sad world indeed to live in... 

But ah! Where is the hope in that? 

I do not despair for I am sure there are others like me who still hold dear the happy endings of their childhoods and wish to see them return. And perhaps, perhaps I might have a small hand helping them once more bring hope to our world. 

Raddishes

Radishes

By Melody Beerbower

9/11/14

Try it, try it!

I think you should.

Eat it, eat it!

It might be good.

Dark, dark red

And creamy white,

You won’t know how it tastes

Till you take a bite.

Go ahead.

I’ll try it too.

On the count of three...

Now chew, chew, chew!

Crunchy, crunchy

Tangy, tart

How my tongue

Begins to smart.

Juicy hot,

Yet cardboard bland.

How one can eat it

I don’t understand.

I wish I had not 

Tried it now.

Whose idea was it

Anyhow?

The Man Who Never Lived

I noticed I haven't posted in awhile, so to make up for it I will tell you a story. This is a story about a man who never lived...


















That's all. He didn't do much.

One Day More

I wrote this parody for a dear lady from my church who has been battling breast cancer. Tomorrow is her last day of radiation! She was the one who thought of singing "One Day More" on her last day; I just decided to give her some more words to celebrate with. :) 

For those of you who don't know the tune:

One Day More

By Melody Beerbower, 6-2-14

Dedicated to Mrs. Morgan

One day more

One last day, one last torturing 

Till I see the end of this road of suffering 

Praise God that it’s just one more time

If it were more I’d lose my mind

One day more. 

How did I make it to today?

My skin and I have slowly parted

One day more!

Tomorrow will be my last day!

It seems so long since all this started. 

One more day I’m on the bed

(Will the treatment ever end?)

One more day for my skin’s burning

(They’ve cooked me through and  through)

What despair I might have had

(It’s easy to fall into)

If it weren’t for all the prayer!

One more day to bear the storm

(No more radiation beams.)

In this battle with the cancer.

(No more claustrophobia.)

Though it’s been a long hard ride

(Still it's almost done.)

God was always there with me!

The time has come

The day is near!

One day more!

One more day of radiation

No it wasn’t very fun

I’m so glad it’s almost over

One more day and I’ll be done!

Energy to spare

Having lots of hair

Never know how blessed you are

Till it’s not there

Here a little scare

There a little sore

Most of me is aching

But there’s one day more!

One day to a new beginning!

This turkey’s ready to be done.

Let my skin begin to heal!

(Let my skin begin to heal!)

It feels so good now to be winning!

(It feels so good now to have won.) 

It just makes me want to sing!

With God right here

I’ll make it through!

One day more!

Tomorrow is another day

Tomorrow’s not so far away. 

Tomorrow I’ll be finished with the radiation I abhor!

One more dawn. One more day. 

ONE DAY MORE!

Mrs. Morgan, I'm so happy you're almost done! It's been an encouragement to me to see your faith in God, your trust in Him, and your joy. 

Love, Melody

Another Song on Weeding

Since we are well on our way into planting season, and those pesky weeds keep showing their faces, I decided today would be a good day to post my other song about wedding. (You can find my first one here) My sister helped me with this one many years ago as we toiled in the hot sun. Now you may pass those many wearisome hours joyfully, as we did, by singing this song. It is a parody of "Stars" from Les Miserables. Enjoy!

Weeds

By Melody Beerbower, spring 2010

To the tune of: Stars, from Les Miserables 

There, out in the garden

All our plants dying,

Choked by the grass

Choked by the weeds.

With all these weeds

Our plants never shall yield

Enough for our needs,

Enough for our needs.

They grow up in the dark

And we must pull them all out.

They grow up so fast there is no time for sitting about.

If we pull with all of our strength 

We just might pull them out!

Weeds,

In your multitudes 

Scarce to be counted,

Filling the garden,

Growing at will.

You’re the executioners,

Silent and sure

Always ready to kill

Always ready to kill.

We pull you out of the yard.

We pull you in the sun and the rain,

But each in your season

Returns and returns,

And is always a pain.

And if we pull with all of our strength

We pull in vain!

And so it must be!

And so it remains

Till we go to the doorway of paradise 

Those who garden 

And those who sow,

Must pay the price.

Still, I will fight them 

So, I may see them 

Dead in a heap!

I will never rest 

Till then, this I swear

This I swear by— by the Weeds!

Happy gardening to you all!

Waiting

Waiting

By Melody Beerbower 5-8-14

It seems so far,

Still months away. 

When will it come

That joyous day?

Everyone’s excited

Happy, proud

Congratulations

Voiced aloud.

Still it seems so far

I don’t know why.

If it doesn’t come soon,

I will surely die

One moth to go.

Can this be for real?

I’ve never done this before. 

I don’t know how to feel.

Never again 

Will I have to drive home

And leave her behind.

Will the day ever come?

It’s so very close,

Yet seems ages away. 

So much will change

In that one crazy day. 

Only two weeks.

Ten days. Eight.  

One week to go.

I can hardly wait.   

I’m done with decisions.

I’m done making plans.

I don’t care what color

I don’t care what pans

I think that is lovely.

I don’t care what design.

Whatever you think.

That looks just fine.

We should’ve just run

While that getting was good.

It’s not too late yet...

You know, we still could!

I suppose we must stay 

And see this thing through

Though it doesn’t seem fun,

It’s the right thing to do. 

Everyone’s excited

More excited than we. 

I wish that day were past

Not coming in three. 

I’m getting tired of all

The fanfare and fuss.

I don’t want all those people 

Staring at us.

Watching us eat,

And watching us kiss. 

(Though that’s part I know someone

Will want to miss.)

Some people have told us

With a sly little wink,

“It won’t be that bad.”

That’s what you think. 

Time went so slow.

I can hardly believe--

My hands are a bit shaky 

But my smile will not leave

I look in the mirror 

And can’t wait to find

Those special pair of eyes

Looking deep into mine. 

I feel a bit queasy

Nervous and numb 

For the day I’ve been waiting for 

Has finally come. 

The Person Who's Two

This poem is one I wrote awhile ago. No one specific in mind, just from my experience with younger siblings. I'm sure some of you can relate. 

The Person Who's Two

By Melody Beerbower, 3-18-14

Shreds of notebook paper

Lying on the floor.

No one knows exactly

What they're lying there for.

We walked in one day, 

And there they were 

Shredded in a massive white pile

Like papery fur. 

Mom blames the dog 

For he likes to chew,

But I think the blames lies

With the person who's two.

Some one ate all the chocolate 

In my parent's secret stash-- 

The one in their bedroom

Behind the big jar of cash. 

They think in was me,

But I gave them a clue:

Just look at the face 

Of the person who's two.

One day on the ground 

We discovered mom's phone

(that indestructible kind)

Smashed by a stone.

Mom was furious

For it was brand new,

But it couldn't resist 

The person who's two.

Dad bought a lawnmower.

It was supposed to last for ten years,

But somehow someone 

Messed up the gears. 

My dad is quite angry.

He's ready to sue,

But all the fault lies

With the person who's two. 

My room once was clean.

Now it's a mess.

All of my stuff 

Is thrown out of my desk. 

Mom says I'm sloppy.

If only she knew

It's simply because of

That person who's two.

Milk on the floor. 

And crayon on the wall.

Mysterious mud puddles 

On the floor in the hall.

No one seems to know the culprit,  

But I think I do.

It's that mischievous imp. 

The persons who's two.