Lula McAbee / Abundance Jar

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.

Lula McAbee

Lula McAbee, eighth grade student at Decorah Middle School, is once again incomprehensibly grateful that they get to share such personal feelings and experiences like the ones displayed above outward into the world. When they’re not delving into such topics, they enjoy reading, crafting, drawing, and music.

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

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