Aryn Henning Nichols

NATHANIEL CROSE, AGE 14

There’s a jar in my home

Filled with the joys I hold dear

It shines brighter and brighter with each passing year.

My joys aren’t too grand

Or covered in gold

Instead, they’re small dreams that will never grow old.

Thunderstorms at night,

Or a cozy winter storm

I find delight when the world is cold and I am warm.

I love resting after a long day

In a clean and organized room

And kicking up my feet with nothing really to do.

But it’s not just the relaxing things I enjoy

It is grinding day after day with a true runner’s grit

And the satisfaction that award brings when you finally earn it.

However, sometimes the weight of the world is too much

The jar goes dark, my Light seems gone

And I forget the joys that once made me strong.

I trudge through the day

Without meaning or scope

Until at last my jar shines with newly found Hope.

So that is my abundance jar

My treasure, my heart, my soul

I hope you too find pleasure in the things that make me whole.

Editor’s Note:  We created Future Focused, a new Inspire(d) column written by pre-teens and teens, to help give the next generation an opportunity to share their voices. Partnering with Dana Hogan, the Extended Learning Program teacher at Decorah Middle School, we offered prompts around the idea of abundance for this issue (and Dana had the genius idea of a metaphorical “Abundance Jar”). Students submitted some really great work, and five were chosen for this Inspire(d). Check out the rest of them, and all the Future Focused submissions published so far! Here’s to Listening to the Next Generation!

– Inspire(d) Editor-in-Chief Aryn Henning Nichols

RUTH KUENY, AGE 13

While some may fill their jars to the brim

With fleeting joys 

Like walking in the city late at night 

Or biting into a melty and rich freshly-baked cookie

Or rereading a favorite book

The flicker of light brought by these is not dependable

What happens when there is no city to walk in

Not a freshly-baked cookie to bite into

Nor a book to reread? 

Like fireflies, they flash bright and then disappear

Their sparkle of joy seemingly vanished.

My jar occasionally gathers dust from neglect

The lid loosens with yelling and fighting.

The light seems to leak with insecurity.

The body cracks with stress.

And then I remember what I keep in my jar

I like to fill my jar with the moon, the weather, the stars, the clouds. 

The sky. 

When the moon shines bright and illuminates everything with an ethereal glow

When the beautiful spattering of the Milky Way is thrown across the night sky

When the clouds form animals and bound across the sky, dancing with the wind

When the thunder rocks you to sleep, humming its deep lullaby

When the sprinkling of rain decides to pour until your clothes are sodden and your spirits light

When you take a moment to appreciate the sky

To appreciate the filled canvas that the earth paints every day

To appreciate that as the atmosphere reflects blue, we can reflect on the sky too

To appreciate that not every day is perfect and sunny, and sometimes the most beautiful moments are in the rain. 

That is my jar

And any time the light dims and the dust collects, 

I look to the sky

And the dim light brightens

Radiating its warmth and light

Showering everything with warmth 

And I have my own star

Editor’s Note:  We created Future Focused, a new Inspire(d) column written by pre-teens and teens, to help give the next generation an opportunity to share their voices. Partnering with Dana Hogan, the Extended Learning Program teacher at Decorah Middle School, we offered prompts around the idea of abundance for this issue (and Dana had the genius idea of a metaphorical “Abundance Jar”). Students submitted some really great work, and five were chosen for this Inspire(d). Check out the rest of them, and all the Future Focused submissions published so far! Here’s to Listening to the Next Generation!

– Inspire(d) Editor-in-Chief Aryn Henning Nichols

LULA MCABEE, AGE 13

All the joys of being a child, 

the clanking sound of a rollercoaster ascending to its peak,

 a stinging, rosy face coming inside from the snow.

All of the things kids are meant to love, like 

soft blankets and 

Christmas presents and 

playing with toys and 

childhood joys. 

So easily forgotten yet somehow always missed, like the fleeting warmth of the world when you haven’t yet learned how cold it really is. 

So your honey and jam jars run out eventually;

leaving you empty and then, inevitably, 

you mourn the simplicity of field trips and ice cream covered faces and running around too loudly in the yard at house parties with your sister. 

As I move in my mind,

 and heart,

 alongside the years and spinning of the Earth, 

I run out of time to feel full

And the small life I’ve created for myself evaporates into thin air, 

leaving me to wonder:

When did this happen?

 How did I not notice the time slipping away?

Maybe the old, empty jar of hope I’ve left on my windowsill, imagining that it might soak up even just a drop of love from the Sun, will need to learn to find the energy it needs in unexpected places. 

So, I start to take it out with me when I leave the house. 

To the coffee shop where the familiar man waves to me from the corner. 

I don’t need to give my name for my order because the barista, Leroy, remembers. 

It follows me into the car with my dad where I can see his expressions, realizing I make 

the exact 

same 

ones. 

I take my jar with me during the summer and scoop up some of the thick fog covering the river before sunrise. 

I steal the laughter from my friends and I as we reference some obscure inside joke, 

and slip that into my jar too. 

My jar comes everywhere with me now. Sooner than I realize, replenishing it becomes second nature. I watch it grow and with some occasional support, it learns to flourish on its own; I no longer need to keep a watchful eye on it all the time. 

It comes to school with me and fills when I’m relieved to pass an assignment or when I’m proud of something I’ve done,

And at home the sweet scents from shower soaps waft into the jar and the smell of candles I light on my nightstand;

the starry colors of the jar twist and shimmer in the flickering light of flame. 

And before bed, I see those swirling colors and think they’re all too similar to the galaxy which makes up a person; intertwining with others, forming constellations of who we are.

Moving and 

changing and 

growing and

learning. 

Every now and then, I notice a slight discoloration, a pinkish hue that stains the glass, which is evidence of the bright, loud, saturated colors which once occupied this jar and my life.

I find my joy in those quieter places I once ignored in childish arrogance. So this jar of mine fills now in different ways and takes different hues. 

Editor’s Note:  We created Future Focused, a new Inspire(d) column written by pre-teens and teens, to help give the next generation an opportunity to share their voices. Partnering with Dana Hogan, the Extended Learning Program teacher at Decorah Middle School, we offered prompts around the idea of abundance for this issue (and Dana had the genius idea of a metaphorical “Abundance Jar”). Students submitted some really great work, and five were chosen for this Inspire(d). Check out the rest of them, and all the Future Focused submissions published so far! Here’s to Listening to the Next Generation!

– Inspire(d) Editor-in-Chief Aryn Henning Nichols