“Hey, Dave,” Esther greeted me as I walked through the door, “we received more donations over the weekend. Do you mind looking through them?”

“Sure, not a problem.” I walked to the back of the Second Chance Thrift Shop and was stunned by the mountain of clothing that stood before me. “Well,” I said to no one, “I’d better get started.”

I sorted the clothes into two categories: discards (which go into garbage bags) and inventory (which goes into cardboard boxes to be added to our inventory list and tagged).

After an hour, I had filled up five large boxes and two full garbage bags of clothes. As I reached into the pile again, I felt a familiar texture. After I pulled it out, I held in my hands a crushed red velvet dress. My breath caught as I rubbed my thumb across the surface. “Janet,” I whispered as my mind went back to that day—the day my wife died.

We were on our way to a friend’s winter wedding when our car was t-boned from the right at an intersection. Janet was wearing a lovely new black velvet dress that made her look stunning—a dress that would be forever stained red with her blood. The paramedics did their best, but she couldn’t be saved. Since I was on the other side of the car, I walked away with only a few minor cuts and contusions.

In the aftermath, my mind ran wild, thinking of all the things that went wrong and how—if I had done something, anything differently—she would be alive now. But after a few months of wallowing in my grief, a friend invited me to church. I was like a zombie at that point, and I just went with the flow. I had no idea how drastically that one church visit would change my life.

Since it was close to Easter, the sermon was about a man named Jesus. The pastor talked about how He died to pay the penalty of the sins of the entire world but was raised again after three days to give us eternal life. This piqued my interest—how could someone have eternal life?

I talked to the pastor after church that day, and I told him all about Janet. “Dave,” he said, “I’m sorry to hear about that. Death and loss are always hard, especially for people who have no hope in life after death.”

“You said that someone who believes on Jesus as the Son of God Who paid for his sins can have eternal life, but you’re still talking about death. How can someone have eternal life and never die?”

“Dave, there are two types of life and death. Physical life and spiritual life. In the beginning, God created all men to be perfect. There was no lying, stealing, sickness, or death. But that was before Adam, the first man, sinned. He broke the one rule God had given him—not to eat the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. We refer to that instance as the Fall of Man.

“God had told Adam and his wife Eve that the day they ate the fruit from that tree, they would die. However, this was not referring to immediate physical death; it was referring to immediate spiritual death. Before the Fall, Adam and Eve had enjoyed a wonderful, personal relationship with God. But sin always separates, and the relationship between God and man was broken. Were you ever caught lying to one of your parents?”

“Yes, I was.”

“And didn’t that strain the relationship you had with your parent?”

“It did. Huh, I never thought about it that way.”

“The reason why we sin is because the curse of sin was also passed down from generation to generation. That is why we see things like lying, stealing, sickness, and death today. But despite everything, God still loved mankind and desired to have true fellowship with him again. The only way for man to be forgiven was if a single man could live a perfect life on this earth and then die a sinless death. Now, God also knew that this would be an impossible task for man to pull off. That’s why He chose to become a man to live and die for us.”

“What?! Why would He do that?”

“Because that’s how much He loves us, how much He loves you.”

“I don’t understand how someone could love me that much.”

“I know. There are some things that are beyond our comprehension, and that is what makes God’s love so precious. It is a free gift we could never deserve.”

“So, if I believe that Jesus, who is also God, came to earth to die for me, I can have eternal spiritual life? What does that mean?”

“Well, on earth, it is the opportunity to have a deep relationship with God. And after death, your spirit—something that every man has—will go to live with Him forever in heaven. For those who don’t believe, they die a second spiritual death, and their spirits go to live in hell where they are eternally separated from God because of their sins.”

“Then does that mean my wife—“

“Do you know if she ever made this decision herself?”

“No, I’m not sure.”

“Then there is a chance that she is in hell now. I can’t know for certain. Only God knows the inside of a person’s heart. But there is still time for you to be saved from that spiritual death, if you are willing.”

I was saved that day, saved from eternal death. The pastor, Pastor Taylor, was willing to host sessions with me where he helped me to come to terms with my grief through insights from the Bible. I still miss my wife—I always will—but I see now that God used her death to help save me. I don’t know where I would be now if it were not for God.

Looking down at my hands, I finally remembered the dress and, after inspecting it, I placed it into a box to be sold. Just like me, this dress would get to have a second chance in life.

The princess fell to her knees. The snow was cold, but she could not feel it anymore. Her eyelashes were encrusted with snowflakes, not that it would have helped her to see through the blinding blizzard. Shivering, she hugged himself in a vain attempt to warm her freezing body. As she began to lose consciousness, she barely noticed as a pair of arms lifted her up and carried her away.

The princess’s eyes fluttered open. There was a flickering in the corner of her eye, and she heard the faint crackle of a fireplace. Turning her head, she saw a young man sitting in a chair. He perked up when he noticed her sitting and smiled. “It’s good to see you awake.” He scooped some broth into a bowl from the pot that he was watching and gently fed her. “Lie down and rest. You need it.”

The princess closed her eyes in restful sleep, knowing she was now safe and warm.

Little one, so small and frail, ‘Tis wonderful to meet you. Red-faced, you cry and wail To those gathered to greet you. In my arms, I hold you tight, And you begin to calm. I vow to always keep you safe, Loved, fed, and warm.

Link’s leather boots squished in the dewy grass of the early morning. The field was dotted with trees, ruined pillars, and the robotic carcasses of Guardians which scarred the land of Hyrule from top to bottom.

He stopped in front of a particular Guardian then pulled out his Shiekah Slate. Comparing his picture of the last memory with the landscape, Link knew he was in the right place.

As he focused, he was suddenly transported back into the past. As he relived his memory with Zelda, he learned the significance of this place—Fort Hateno. This was the place where Zelda’s power had finally awakened, and it was the place where he had died protecting her.

Beads of sweat began to form on the woman’s brow as she carried her water pot to Jacob’s Well. Though the midday sun was scorching, she feared even more the heated scorn that she would face from the other women. Going now meant she was not likely to meet anyone on her journey since the other women of the city came to draw water at the cooler part of the day.

As she approached, she noticed a Jewish man sitting upon the edge. She avoided his gaze and did not speak. The Jews’ hatred for the half-blooded Samaritans was common knowledge. Some Jews would even take the longer route that crossed the Jordan in order to avoid Samaria entirely. He would ignore her, she would ignore him, and they would both be on their separate ways shortly.

As she set down her water pot and stopped to catch her breath, the man said, “Give me to drink.”

Startled, the woman looked up and found eyes that looked kindly upon her instead of being filled with scorn and hatred. She stammered, “How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans.”

He replied, “If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.”

Puzzled, the woman glanced around. “Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: from whence then hast thou that living water? Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle?”

He smiled knowingly, his eyes twinkling. “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”

The woman’s jaw dropped. She could sense the sincerity in this man’s voice, and that caused her heart to race. If she could get a hold of this living water, it would solve all her problems. Never again would she be forced to face either the midday heat or the heat of scornful eyes! Breathless, she excitedly pleaded, “Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw.”

The man replied, “Go, call thy husband, and come hither.”

The woman’s face fell, and her cheeks flushed as she looked down at her feet. “I-I have no husband.”

The man nodded. “Thou hast well said, I have no husband: for thou hast had five husbands; and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband: in that saidst thou truly.”

The woman gasped sharply in astonishment! _“How does he know so much about me?” _she wondered. “Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet. As a man of God, I have a question for you: where should people worship? Our Samaritan forefathers have worshipped in these mountains for generations; but you Jews say that all men ought to worship God in Jerusalem.”

The man smiled again and replied, “Soon, it won’t matter where men worship. They will be able to worship God freely, wherever they are. But the important part is not the place of worship: it is the Person that you are worshiping. Since you have mixed your knowledge of the one true God with that of pagan deities, you do not truly know the God whom you worship, nor His salvation. We Jews do.

“But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”

The woman said, “I know that Messias cometh, which is called Christ: when he is come, he will tell us all things.”

His eyes twinkled again as he said, “I that speak unto thee am he.”

The woman then left her waterpot, and went her way into the city, and saith to the six men she had had relations with, “Come, see a man, which told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?”

Joys of childhood are found In simple pleasures and games— Tea parties with princess crowns, “Tag! You’re it!” “Ready or not!”

The Medal of Honor was giv’n In attitude, not words, To the victor who could not be found “Olly, olly, oxen free!”— a just reward.

Riley was sitting at her desk working on the teacher’s math problems when she heard a whisper from the corner of the room.

“Hey, Peter,” Dylan whispered, “tell Riley that you’ll let her hold your hand if she eats a tide pod.” Riley’s cheeks burned in humiliation. It had been bad enough that her crush was only one-sided and that Peter had turned her down, but Dylan’s words stung, ripping the scab off her newly-mended heart. Gritting her teeth, she tried to focus on math again, but Dylan’s words repeated themselves in her brain. She didn’t hear Peter’s response, and she didn’t want to know it either.

At lunch, Riley met up with her friend Kat. “Hey, Riles.”

“Hey.”

Kat frowned, “Why the long face? Did something happen?” After glancing around to make sure neither of the boys were within earshot, Riley repeated what she had overheard in class that day. “WHAT?! He said THAT?! How dare he!”

“Kat, please, we don’t need to make a fuss about—“

“Yes we do! I’m going over there to give Dylan a piece of my mind!”

“No-“ Riley tried to protest, but it was too late. Kat was already marching over to the table where Dylan and Peter were sitting. Riley slumped in her chair and hid her burning face in her hands. Could this day get any worse?

My name is Aisling. I come from a family of architects. We are commonly known by humans as the mythical “sand men.” We are responsible for creating dreams. During our apprenticeship, each architect is assigned to an individual. We watch over them during the day so that we can craft their dreams at night based on the day’s events.

I was assigned to a girl named Emma. Architects are not supposed to form attachments with humans, but after watching Emma for the past month, something is stirring within me—new emotions that I’ve never felt before.

Emma has a very sweet spirit. She is kind toward everyone she meets, and she does very well in school. And yet—how is it that she is bullied every day? The other girls at school mock her and shun her because her clothes are old. Why is it that she must return to an empty home? Her mother is forced to work multiple jobs to make ends meet after her father abandoned them. This sweet, beautiful flower is being slowly crushed by those around her.

Tonight, I want to let her know that she is not alone. I cannot appear in her dream, of course, but I can create a character in her dream—a prince, perhaps, like those she reads about—that behaves similarly to me.

I wait for her to fall asleep, and then I start weaving a dream. I start by placing Emma in a dank dungeon. Then I create my prince character. Acting and speaking through him, I walk up to her jail cell where she is softly weeping. “May I be of service, Miss?” I ask.She gasps softly and looks up to face the prince—to face me. I smile at her and, grabbing a key from my pocket, I unlock the door to let her out. She wipes her nose and shyly approaches me—the prince.

“Who are you? Why are you helping me?” she murmurs.

Grinning, I reply—the price replies, “My name is Prince Alvar. I have come to free you, your highness, from your unrighteous bondage.”

She smiles and curtsies. “Thank you, your highness.”

The prince—I—offer my hand to her and say, “Let me take you on a journey you’ll never forget.” With that, we step out of the darkness into the light. I know that she will be facing her troubles again tomorrow, but maybe I can give her something to cling to through this dream.

When troubles come When darkness falls Upon your life, Upon us all, You be the light, The one who stands Strong against the Storm’s fierce hands That slap and toss You to and fro. When it gets hard, Do not let go. Cling to the One Called your Anchor. He will keep you Safe forever. In the end, your Light will shine as A testament Of what has passed. You may shine ‘lone For you will see That most will not Fight ‘gainst the sea That rages. They Go with the ebb And flow and make The sand their beds On the ocean’s Floor. Be a sea Star, shining bright In the depths of Darkest night.

The school bus had dropped me off at my stop half an hour ago, but I still stood in the drizzly rain. I didn’t want to go home because I knew Mom’s new boyfriend would be there. I shuddered, partly from the cold and partly from remembering the predatory gleam in his eye. If he really wanted to take advantage of me, there would be nothing to stop him. Mom stopped caring about me after Dad left us for his mistress. I guess I remind her too much of him, of the past.

Maybe we would both be happier, then, if I didn’t go home. I could keep walking down the street that leads out of town. I could disappear forever, and no one would care. It’s not like I have any friends at school, either. If I make friends, they will find out about my life, and they won’t want to be my friends anymore. It saves a lot of pain and rejection.

Since I’m 16, I can get a job. It wouldn’t be much, but it would be something. Finding a place to live might be harder, but I could just stay at a homeless shelter for a while until I’m 18. Then, I can find an apartment, and I can get my name legally changed so that my mother will never find me.

With that plan in mind, young Sylvia Forester moved on. She kept her head down, staring at the cracked sidewalk as she walked past her street, and the next one, and the next one.

When her mother discovered that she was missing, an Amber Alert went out. Sylvia began to go by her middle name, Alberta. She also cropped her hair short and wore a lot of makeup to disguise her appearance. This kept her from being detected for two years. Then, after her eighteenth birthday, she changed her name; and Sylvia Forester was never seen again.