August | 2023

August | 2023

August | 2023

August | 2023

August | 2023

August | 2023

August | 2023

August | 2023

Nate Stansberry



By Lillian McArdle

tree branches and coke bottles 

stuffed dinosaurs and trampoline seeds

the nervous giggling

the soft smile

fluttering eyelashes

yellow blankets being pushed aside

mac and cheese from a small pot

soft kisses and sharing secrets

when you mention eating i freeze.

i’m holding back.

promises, broken.

paralyzed with fear

at what? 

none other than myself.

i don’t wanna be me anymore.

friends. friends?

you can talk to me whenever, you know that?

but you don’t.

you don’t trust me anymore.

am i annoying? 

i always start the conversations now. 

nobody reaches out first.

 the “i love you”s are lies. i’m used to lies. i am the liar.

you used to see the cuts. 

but now i’m invisible.


By Ella Green

I pray God would open my eyes to the needs of others and how I may support and encourage them in their hurting and struggling, and how I might share His love with them. I think you’ll find that by helping and loving others, your problems in life decrease significantly because the focus is shifted off of yourself and onto the people that God has placed in your life. I pray God would shut down the anxious thoughts in your mind and open your heart to be filled with His love that casts out all fear. When we love others, we are actively diminishing the anxiety and fears that try to overpower us, because love overpowers fear. The flames of our fear dwindle and die in the refreshing waters of God’s presence and love.

Each day, remind yourself of how you, with God’s help and strength, hold power over your emotions. Every single day that you live gets you one step closer to reaching eternal life with Jesus in heaven, where all emotional struggles, pain, and suffering will be gone, with eternal joy and beauty in its place! 

Friend, remember that your anxiety is not an enemy, nor is it your identity. God and His unfailing love define you. Not your emotions. Worrying is a waste of time, but trusting in the Lord is where true life is found. Even when you feel alone, take heart, and know you are not alone. Ever. You have the loving Savior forever by your side, never to leave you. Sin and anxiety will leave their marks on our hearts, but God heals. May God’s peace, power, presence, and love bind the wounds of your heart. 

The strongest attempt that humanity has of conquering all anxieties, worries, fears, stresses, concerns, uncertainties, and discouragements is to run to Jesus, step into His loving embrace, take His hand, and trust that He has everything under control. I want you to know there truly is a way to move past emotional struggles, a way more powerful and effective than any other. Grasp Jesus’s hand, look into His face, and say, 

“I trust you.”

How To Study A Wildflower

By Ellie Manuel


Gaze at it for a little while

Take your time

Your first instinct may be to pick it up

But it’s not time for that yet

Get to know it first

Understand the beauty of it

Before using it

Look at all its parts

The stem

The petals

Maybe count the petals 

Is there something hiding in between them?

Look for the smaller things

The tiny yellow balls 

Of some Unknown substance in the center

That is the source of food

The source of life 

For some flying friend

See how the petals are shaped

The detailed shape for each of them

How they are shaped with intention and love 

By a Creator who cares even for that little flower,

Beauty of Creation

Now feel the flower 

Just enough 

As to not disturb the peaceful silence 

That it lives in

There behold the wondrous Beauty of Creation 

The reminder of beauty in our lives

Waltz in F Minor

By Ean Landfare

Lies vs. the Truth

By Ellie Manuel

What lies a thing can tell you

That you are broken 

Or not worthy of love

Even worse than it playing in your head 

Is seeing it play in someone’s you love 

Telling these lies

While you are standing there saying,

“I love you”

It's hard to fight these voices

When they feel them to be true 

But you stand there saying, “I love you”

And they look back

And say, “That’s the truth”

Stricken by the Chicken

By Clara Weldon

I am a beautiful, sweet, adolescent girl. My pigtails hang down to my shoulders as a bow holds together my normally unbrushed shaggy hair. The sky is filled with a rather calm sensation. The clouds are on fire. Flames brush through the blue unbothered. When the world is golden it is my favorite time of day to wander aimlessly around my family's land. I walk barefoot wearing a rather oversized shirt and shorts. Acorns hit the nerves of the bottom of my feet. Causing my rather small and, might I add, uncoordinated body to balance on my tippy-toes. The humid air pushes against my skin. A ritual that I often enjoyed this time of day. I often imagined myself as a willow tree basking in the sunshine. Across my face not a hint of distress is possible…until I see it. 

My roots lock to the ground. Every morsel in my body tenses up. I look into its soulless orbs, devoid of any spark of vitality. It sees me. It lurks. It hunts. The monsters pupils stare at me. Its twisted head contorts into what could almost be called a sneer. As if it took pleasure in causing me fear. A disturbing series of ghastly sounds creaks from its beak. An unnerving clucking and clacking sending shivers down my spine. It is as if the sinister being has crawled up from the pits of hell not sure how to move its oddly shaped limbs. Its body lurches near me in an unnatural way, perching it's one leg up while clicking its head uncomfortably. This animal sought to destroy me. I called this spine-curling beast my biggest fear, others, called it a chicken. I had hated these animals for as long as I could remember. Nothing could change my mind. Not petting one, not feeding one, and not even eating one. There was simply nothing that could get me over their beady eyes or the way they ran like raptors. Until my mom came home with a little chirping box. The somehow walking speckled cotton balls had me completely entranced. I looked at the flimsy cardboard box watching about ten toy sized chicks peck and pluck their pellets of food. That is when I saw her: a confident speckled chick running around as if it was her sole purpose to alarm the others of the potential danger of a human. As she looked up at me I reached in as gently as a child could and scooped her up from the shavings. Walking to my mother’s bathroom I took a small bottle of red fingernail polish and gently dabbed her leg. To me this was not a beast that longed to hurt me but a helpless orphan. I was now in a way the mother hen. I would feed her from my hand everyday for the next few months, after school, until she was completely unafraid of me. We were bestfriends from then on. I would run out of my car after school but unlike other kids running around to their dog, cat, hamster, or fish. I ran straight out of that car to my pet chicken, Checker.

100 Word Memoir

By Noel Warren

I survey the plain of brown sod. The rival team has perhaps five more people than us. I narrow my eyes at their advantage. One prominently stands as their leader, and I regard him with disgust.

“Noel, what’s the plan?” My lieutenant, Bear, inquires. I withdraw a piece of tattered

paper, displaying it to my company of about twelve.

“Do we all know where we’re going? Captains, you’re ready?” My friends nod their

assent. We’re ready for the ultimate showdown of fourth graders in a game known as ‘Everybody’s It Tag.’

An imaginary gun fires, and we begin our battle.

100 Word Memoir

By Tucker Skelley

In the grand auditorium, I approached the grand piano. The room’s vastness seemed excessive for just me and the critical Asian judge. The walls seemed to stretch, amplifying my nerves. My heart pounding, I launched into the well-practiced Khachaturian Toccata. My intuition guided me through large chords. Next, I performed Clair De Lune, a piece centuries old. As anxious thoughts crept in, I channeled my emotions into my music and focused as my fingers gingerly struck each note. Finishing my performance with gusto, I played Dramatic Rhapsody. That day, the keys embraced me, revealing my true home; performing the piano.

Reset Trailer

By Wes Moody

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