Memories Monday

Memories Monday: “The Theater Disaster”

Greetings from the last week of class…and also the last week before my birthday! How’s it going? This past Christmas, I shared some of my old poetry on the blog. If you missed it, you can click here to read those “Memories Monday” posts.

This time, I dug into the Anna Archives (AKA my old writing binder) and pulled out a story. I wanted to do this so I could devote the time I saved to studying. However, I only had a hard copy of what I’m about to share with you, so by the time I read it, read it to my sister, discussed it with my sister, and typed it up while reading the dialogue in funny accents…well, it didn’t save much time, but it was fun to remember writing the story.

Backstory: I wrote this story in 2007, when I was fourteen,and I had intentions of making it into a book. I only ended up writing the first three chapters (yeah, they’re short), which kind of stands alone as a short story. So that’s what you’re about to read.

I wrote this before I knew much about story structure, so it may be lacking in some areas. But that’s what I love about it: I wrote it for myself, without feeling pressured to make it a certain way for an assignment or to please other people. It’s straight from my overly dramatic, adolescent heart.

Plus, weirdly enough, the characters in this story kind of match up with the main characters in the novel I wrote last year…the newer characters are several years older and have different names, but their friendship and personalities are similar. It’s funny how that turned out.

So without further ramblings, here’s “The Theater Disaster!”

“The Theater Disaster”
By Anna Schaeffer, 2007

     “Which one’s better? The Green or the blue?” Lynne asked as she held two shirts in front of her. “Wait, no, I could layer green and blue for a layered look! I think that’ll work.”

     Lynne’s best friend just rolled her eyes. “You are so dramatic! We’re just going to the movies. The movies are dark, so no one’s gonna see you. No one’s gonna care about your outfit.”

     Now Lynne rolled her eyes. “You just don’t get it, Mandy,” she said. “You look gorgeous no matter what you wear. Your hair always looks stunning, your shoes always match your clothes, and you never look like you just got out of bed!”

     “Stop, Lynne. You know that’s not true. You’re gorgeous too, and you know it. Besides, do you honestly think I would be best friends with an ugly slob? No, you know me better than that. Wear the layered look if you want, but hurry! We have to leave in about five minutes!”

     “Five minutes?!?” Lynne gasped. “I haven’t even picked out my accessories yet!”

     Mandy sighed before answering her best bud. “You just worry about getting changed. Leave the minor details to me.”

     So while Lynne changed into her movie-going outfit, Mandy dug through Lynne’s drawers until she found what she was looking for: a silver bracelet and matching earrings, as well as a white belt.

     “You know,” Many said as she handed the accessories to Lynne, “It sure is a good thing you’re not allowed to wear makeup yet: if you did, we’d NEVER make it to the theater!”

     “Yeah, right. It’s a shame I can’t wear makeup yet. My freckles just bug the juice out of me!” Lynne said, frowning at her face In the mirror. She put on the earrings and bracelet, then fastened the belt around her waist.”

     “I think your freckles are cute. Besides, you’re only thirteen. My mom says we should enjoy being carefree or whatever, ‘cause it won’t last long.”

     “My mom says that, too.” Lynne agreed. “Okay, I think I’m ready. Just let me grab my money and we’ll be out of here.”

     Mandy let out a BIG sigh, “Finally!”

     On the way to the movie theater, Mandy asked Lynne about her sudden interest in fashion.

     “Lynne, you used to wear a t-shirt and jeans and not care how you looked! Why have you changed?”

     “Well,” Lynne said carefully. “You know how I want to be a famous actress! I’ve heard that tons of stars have been discovered just doing normal stuff. I wanna look my best when someone finds me.”

     Mandy wrinkled her nose, “You’re crazy! Walk a little faster, Wild Woman, the movie starts in ten minutes!”

     Lynne laughed and ran alongside her friend .The movie theater was only tw blocks from Lynne and Mandy’s houses. Next to the theater was bakery, where the girls often enjoyed pastries and soda. Lynne was thankful she and Mandy were allowed to walk by themselves.

     “So, after the movie your mom is going to pick us up, right?” Lynne asked Mandy.

     “Yeah,” she answered. “I borrowed her cell phone so we can call when we’re finished. To be honest, I’m glad we’re not allowed to walk home in the dark! This town is a scary place at night!”

     Lynne had to agree, “Yeah, it is, but at least we can come on our own.” 

     By now the girls were at the theater. They went inside, purchased tickets, bought some snacks, and entered theater.

     “This is really strange,” Lynne commented once they were seated. “I think we’re the only ones in here!”

     “You’re right. I saw people go into the other room, but not this one. I don’t know why! This movie is supposed to be awesome!”

     Just then, Lynne heard a crinkling noise. “What’s that?!? I thought we were alone in here!”

     “We are,” Mandy replied. “At least, we’re the only humans.”

     Lynne was confused by Mandy’s answer. She was just about to ask Many to explain, when all of a sudden she spotted a giant black rat dash down the aisle!

     “Ahhhh! Look, a rat!” Lynne cried. She quickly put her feet on theater seat and wrapped her arms around herself.

     The rat was the size of Lynne’s foot, and twice as fat! He had beady red eyes and a tail as thick as a sausage and as long as a ruler.

     Suddenly, another rat appeared, then another, and another, and another until there were five rats running around the room.

     Mandy squealed and grabbed Lynne’s hand. “Wh-wh-what do we do?” She stuttered. Her eyes were round with fear. “D-d-do we sc-sc-scream f-f-f-or help?”

     “No,” Lynne answered. “N o, we don’t. I say we run as fast as we can to the door.”

     Mandy hesitated, but then nodded slowly. “Okay…” she said. “On the count of three.”

     Lynne swallowed hard, then began counting. “One…” the girls stood up in their seats. “Two…” they prepared to dash. “Three!”

     The girls had never run so fast in their lives! Without even looking around, the girls had jumped from their seats and dashed across the room, screaming as they went.

     By the time they burst out of the movie room’s doors, a crowd had gathered to see what th matter was.

     “Are you okay?!?” A worker asked the panting girls. Lynne nodded, and Mandy blushed with embarrassment.

     “Yes, I think so…” Lynne felt like she was about to cry. She sniffed really hard then slowly told the worker what they had seen. When she got to the size of the rats, she head a woman gasp. She then watched the woman run out of the building, dragging her two children behind her.

     By the time Lynne ha finished explaining, the theater’s manager appeared. “Ladies, are you sure of what you have seen?” He asked seriously. “Killer Merchants is a scary movie, maybe you were just frightened…”

     “No sir,” Mandy spoke up. “We’re sure of what we saw! In fact…”

     Mandy was interrupted by Lynne, who said, “Killer Merchants?!?” We were gonna watch Fran’s Farm, which is about…”

     “I know what it’s about, and I also know you ladies are mistaken! I sold you tickets to Killer Merchants because you asked for them!” the worker said harshly.

     “No sir, we did not. We asked for Fran’s Farm.” Lynne was becoming angry. Why didn’t these two men believe them?!?

     “Well, it could have been a misunderstanding. Nevertheless, I will send Damon in to show you there are absolutely no rats in there.” The manager said, pointing first at the worker, then at the doors the girls had run out of.

     Damon muttered something to himself, then walked into the “rat room.” He emerged a few seconds later, his eyes round with astonishment.

     “Uh, Boss,” he said, “These girls are right. There are giant rats in there!”

     The manager stared at Damon for a few seconds, then went into the room himself. Sure enough, he emerged a few seconds later, his face identical to Damon’s. “Well girls,” he said, “I’m a little embarrassed for not believing you. There are rats in there, and I would really appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to everyone,” he said, winking. “It would be bad for business, you know. Tell you what,” the manager reached into his pocket and withdrew some money. “How about I give you a refund for your tickets and give you two free tickets to Fran’s Farm instead of Killer Merchants?”

     Lynne looked at Mandy before answering. By the look on her best friend’s face, Lynne knew how to answer. “We appreciate the offer, Mister, but I think we ought to head home. I’ll just call one of our parents to pick us up, if that’s okay.”

     The manager nodded kindly. “That sounds like a good idea. Take these two tickets in case you want to come back. And again, ladies, I’m very sorry for everything.” He looked like he meant it, so Lynne smiled as she walked out of the building, Mandy still clutching her hand.

     A few minutes later, as they climbed into the car, Mandy looked like something was wrong.

     “What is it?” Lynne asked. “Not another rat, I hope!”

     Mandy shook her head.” No, but I just remembered something.”


     “We left our popcorn in the movie room!”

Christmas, Memories Monday, Writing

Memories Monday: “Holiday Hope”


Merry Christmas Eve, y’all! Can you believe how quickly December has flown by? Me neither. If you could see me right now, you’d behold my shocked face. But you’d also behold someone who hasn’t rolled out of bed yet, which would probably give you your own shocked face. Anyway….

I’ve had such a fun time sharing these Memories Monday poems with you, and I’m sad it’s coming to an end. It’s been a journey through lots of good memories for me, as I remember what I was thinking/feeling while writing these poems. I hope they’ve given you a smile, too.

If you want to catch up on the previous poems, here they are:

Today’s poem comes from 2005 – my first Christmas as a teen. When we were younger, my sisters and I would produce a play called “Closing Christmas” the last week of each year. During the show, we’d serve the audience (our parents) dinner, act out the Christmas story, and sing carols. This poem was recited at one of our “Closing Christmas” plays, so it’s got some extra-special memories attached to it.

But before you read “Holiday Hope,” I want to wish you a blessed and Merry Christmas. Ever since mankind first sinned, God has been writing an elaborate love story through which He brings His people back to Himself. The birth of Jesus was a key moment in this story, but it’s still being written today as He gently calls us into a close relationship with Him. How awesome is it that we get to be a part of such a beautiful story? Let’s not take that for granted this Christmas. Let’s find little moments of time in which we can be still and thank God for His “indescribable gift” (2 Corinthians 9:15). God promised a Savior thousands of years ago, and He came so that we could live forever with Him. Let’s adore Him.

Yea, Lord, we greet Thee
Born this happy morning
Jesus, to Thee be all glory given
Word of the Father
Now in flesh appearing
O, come, let us adore Him
O, come, let us adore Him
O, come, let us adore Him
Christ, the Lord!

Have a Merry Christmas and a blessed New Year! I’ve had such a great time experiencing life alongside you on my blog in 2012. It’s been a great year, and I can’t wait to see what the Lord has planned for next year. See you in 2013!

In His love,


Holiday Hope

Anna Schaeffer, 2005

Through a night sky full of light,
that holy Christmas night,

while angels watched in glory,
God’s Son was born, so humble and lowly.

With a cry that pierced the dark,
the angels ‘round sand, “Hark!”

In a manger cold and dark,
God’s only Son was born.

The angels above proclaimed,
as they worshiped and praised God’s name,

“Glory to God! Glory!”
It was a night that changed all history.

Thirty-three years after that night,
that very same Son was crucified.
With the words, “It is finished,” Christ bled and died.

Why did He do it? There must be a reason!
But there is: Christ died for our transgressions!

They put Him in a tomb and closed the door,
but three days later, He was there no more!

Jesus had risen up from the grave;
Jesus who came to seek and to save!

Why did He die, only the Father knows why,
when all we ever do is cheat, steal, and lie.

No matter the reason, this Holiday season,
keep in mind as you open your presents:

God sent His Son, the best gift of all,
to save us from our sins,
in the light of His presence!

Christmas, Memories Monday, Writing

Memories Monday: “Ten Tiny Fingers”

First, some updates:

  • Snow! No, not real snow. At least not anywhere near my house. But there is snow on this blog page. If you let the page sit still for a moment, it should start floating down. And the direction it falls follows the lead of your mouse arrow. I just figured that out, like, five seconds ago. If you can’t see the snow, I’m really sorry, because sometimes I just stare at it and it makes me kind of happy. It’s probably also the closest thing to a white Christmas I’ll experience this year.
  • Finals are finished! At exactly 4:00pm on Wednesday, December 12, 2012, I walked out of my last exam, practically skipped through the parking lot, climbed into my car, and sighed. Then there were a lot of “thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” prayers to God for faithfully walking me through the semester.
  • Christmas is in eight days! When I was little, Christmas always seemed to take its sweet time getting here. But these days, the season flies by way too fast! Next Monday is Christmas Eve, but I’ll have one final Memories Monday post for you to enjoy before you kick yourself off the Internet and spend some time with loved ones.
  • Busy blog week! Today is, obviously, a Memories Monday post. Tomorrow’s post is one I’ve been planning since March. Seriously. If you were around me much this past Spring, you may be shocked I never blogged about what tomorrow’s post will be about, especially since I went into nerd mode several times talking about some of what the post will cover. So come back tomorrow.
  • Surprise Thursday! Yes, Thursday’s post will be a surprise! It’s something I haven’t done on this blog yet. So, yeah, that’s all I’ll say for now. But be here for that.
  • Friends. I just remembered I have some friends coming over in less than two hours. I’d better make this the last announcement, put this thing online, and get out of bed. They mustn’t see me before my coffee.

Now for our regularly scheduled Memories Monday post:

tentinyfingersI’ve enjoyed sharing pages from my old journals with you this Christmas season. To read the previous three poems, follow the links below:

Today’s poem is called “Ten Tiny Fingers,” and it was written in 2009. In light of the tragedy that rocked the country Friday, the tiny Baby this poem addresses is even more precious to me. Because that Baby grew up, defeated death, and provided a way for us to be saved. It is through Him, and Him alone, that we can reach God. In Him we find hope, peace, and security. I don’t have all the answers, but I pray God will use this tragedy to shake our nation so hard it can’t help but fall to its knees.

We needed a Savior, and He came. Now it’s up to us to accept His gift.


“Ten Tiny Fingers”


Anna Schaeffer, 2009


Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes,

Two tiny eyes, and one tiny nose.



One tiny mouth and two tiny ears,

One tiny tongue and countless tiny hairs.



Two tiny arms and two tiny cheeks,

Two tiny hands and two tiny feet.



One tiny moment, one tiny night,

One tiny stable, and one tiny sight.



One tiny city, one tiny trough,

One tiny bed, and one tiny cloth.



One tiny cry, one tiny time,

One tiny Baby, one tiny Light.



One big crowd, one big cross,

One big man, and one big loss.



One big purpose, one big plan,

One big time to save all men.



One big miracle, one big life,

One big God, one big sacrifice.



One big day for many, many lives,

One big gift to relieve all strife.



Ten tiny fingers, two tiny hands,

One big purpose, one big plan.


Christmas, Memories Monday, Writing

Memories Monday: “The Glorious Baby”


By the time you read this, I will be in the beginning of final exams week. As I write this, French class is behind me (for this semester, at least), and I’m working to finish my Poetry Workshop portfolio, a Political Science research paper, a lab practical, and two more exams…So I’ve got a few things to keep me occupied over the next few days. Maybe you’re counting the days until Christmas break like I am (Wednesday!), or maybe you’re busy with other stuff. Whatever it is, it’s so easy to get caught up in all of the stuff life throws at us—especially at Christmas time.

Today’s poem is another product of Christmas 2008 (clearly, that was a very reflexive year for me). It’s simple, short, sweet, and to-the-point. But maybe that’s the reason I like it, because whenever I read it, I’m reminded to just be still and savor the simple things in life. The often-overlooked things that we rush past in the midst of our Christmas preparations. It’s a poem about “The Glorious Baby,” who He is, and why He came. When we stop and think about it, isn’t that all that really matters, anyway?

In His love,

Anna Schaeffer

P.S. This is the 3rd Memories Monday poem. To read the previous entries, click the links below:

The Glorious Baby

Anna Schaeffer, 2008

Glory of Heaven, Hope of earth,

Humble Baby of virgin birth.

Straw for a bed, in a shed,

Just as prophets wise once said.

A Savior, Redeemer, Prince of Peace,

Lord of lords, and King of kings.

Father of creation,

Light to the nations,

Now gentle and new,

A promise come true.

Emmanuel, Jehovah, God,

Now confined to human bod.

Susceptible to a world of woe,

He had to come so we could go.

Miraculous Child born for everyone,

Jesus, Messiah, God’s only Son.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas, Memories Monday, Writing

Memories Monday: “Mary’s Questions”


Last week I introduced a new series in which I’ll post one of my old Christmas poems each Monday leading up to Christmas. Last week’s was called “The Shepherds’ Story” and you can click here to read it.

This week’s poem is narrated by Mary. One night, I started thinking about what it would be like to be in her position. To be faithfully engaged to someone, only to be told I was carrying a child. And not just any child, but the promised Messiah; the One sent to fulfill every prophecy. The One sent to save the world.

As I was writing this poem four years ago, I thought of the questions Mary may have asked God. This poem was written with the Scripture passages in mind, but it explores other questions the soon-to-be mother of Jesus may have had. You may notice it follows a pattern, too: from asking God “why?,” to boldly declaring her faith in her Creator and His magnificent plan.

“I am the Lord’s servant…May it be to me as you have said.” – Luke 1:38

In His love,


Mary’s Questions

Anna Schaeffer, 2008

Why me? How can this be?

I’m only a teenager, not royalty.

I have no fame, glory, or renown.

I’m just a girl from a small, rural town.

What have I done to deserve such a task?

I don’t hide who I am, I don’t wear a mask.

How can I be with child if I have never been with a man?

For what kind of purpose is this, what kind of plan?

In one single moment, my plans have been altered.

Why did You choose me, when in my life I have faltered?

What do You see in me, what kinds of things,

that I should be treated even greater than kings?

Why did You choose me to deliver Your Son,

when you, being God, can use anyone?

Why have I been chosen to carry out Your plan?

Why has Your Son become like earthly man?

But who am I to question the Divine?

Who am I to ask for what is not mine?

I must do nothing but believe.

I must have faith and trust that You will succeed.

I am Your servant, to You I’ll be true.

Create in me a heart like Yours, faithful and brand-new.

Allow me to bear Your only Son,

and protect me as I carry the Holiest One.

For I know You have a plan for me,

even when I cannot hear or see.

Thank you for giving me a gift so amazing,

so I can share with others Your grace that is saving.

Christmas, Memories Monday, Writing

Memories Monday: “The Shepherds’ Story”

shepherdI love the traditions surrounding the Christmas season, whether it’s caroling with friends, wrapping paper fights with the cousins (yes, really), or attending the candlelight Christmas Eve service at church. I also love the memories attached to all of those traditions. These memories aren’t what make Christmas so special, but they certainly add something to the season of joy, don’t they? That’s why, each Monday until Christmas, I’ll be posting an old Christmas poem of mine.They were all written before I ever studied poetry, but maybe that’s why I like them so much. When these were written, it wasn’t about form, or style, or tone, or meter. It was all about Christmas and what the holiday—the Holy Day—means to me.

This first selection is called “The Shepherds’ Story,” and it was written during the 2008 Christmas season, when I was sixteen.

I’m so excited to be celebrating this season!

In His love,

Anna Schaeffer

The Shepherds’ Story

Anna Schaeffer, 2008

Shepherds amidst the craggy rocks

watching o’er their shaggy flocks.

An angel in the sky appears,

beckoning them to draw near.

“Glory! Good news! Hope has come!

God has sent His only Son!

In a manger filled with straw and hay,

you will find the Savoir, the Christ, born today!”

Although the shepherds shook with fright,

they did not hesitate to go that night.

Just as the heavenly angel had said,

they found the Christ Child in a makeshift bed.

They knelt down to bow at his tiny feet,

then the wonderful story they did repeat.

They spread the news to all who would hear,

telling everyone both far and near.

Today as we ponder the story they told,

we must never let the miraculous tale grow old.

Remember not only a babe as we sing,

but remember the Savior who is our King.