A sincere congratulations goes to Elizabeth Reimers, 38, who entered a very personal piece about the courage of her husband's great-grandmother who lived in the 1870’s. Elizabeth’s piece was selected because of its moving story format and the way it showed, rather than told, why this woman is so inspiring.
The prize for our “18 and under” category goes to Joanna Ott, 18, for her well written piece “Everything Means Something”. Joanna chose to write about the bestselling author Bodie Thoene and did well in articulating why her stories about the personal histories of ordinary people are so important.
Elizabeth and Joanna will each receive a prize pack filled with fantastic books from the ShopAtSullivan library.
Next, we are awarding Jody Day, 54, and Kathryn Williamson, 15, the positions of runners-up for their equally impressive pieces. Jody’s unique essay on the life of Vinnie Bump was not a typical choice, while Kathryn’s piece on Anne Frank was a clear statement on the impact made by one little girl. Jody and Kathryn will each receive a $10 coupon to ShopAtSullivan.
Thank you very much to all those who took the time to write an essay. Each piece submitted was well written and inspiring in its own right, and we plan to post each one in the coming weeks on one of the following sites (AnneOfGreenGables.com, RoadToAvonlea.com and WindAtMy-Back.com).
Below are the winning submissions!
“Maria” by Elizabeth Reimers
I sat helplessly, watching my child’s chest rise and fall with the rhythm of the respirator. With each breath, hers and my own, I prayed that she would live. I was filled with despair and wondered how a mother could stand to lose a child.
Then I remembered Maria, an ordinary mother who survived impossible heartache in the 1870’s.
There were already six small graves when another epidemic reached Maria's home. Eddie, only five, was the next to die. The baby, Maria Fredricka followed. Then sweet Maria Karoline breathed her last. They were all gone within three weeks, leaving only Henry Jr. to survive. With the death of her daughter, nine of her ten children were dead – and Maria could not bear it any longer.
“No, no, no, no…” Maria’s whispers became choked by her sobs. Somewhere, from deep within a current of ache burgeoned and broke from her body. Like a river out of control, tears streamed as she shook with sorrow and rage.
Maria screamed in anger, “No, no, No!” Her husband stared at her, momentarily snapped from his own grief by her fury.
Maria was consumed. She could see nothing – but feel everything. Her skin was on fire, her breath felt choked, and the stench of sweaty death seemed everywhere. Maria launched herself toward the door and out into the daylight. She had to run… She had to get away. She had to go far, far away from this place that held such bittersweet memories; and within hours would hold another grave.
Maria ran screaming through forty acres of fields on their homestead. She tore at her hair – pulling it out by the roots. The pain somehow was a release – a different kind of pain – something to feel other than death. She needed to feel something different. She had to feel something different.
Suddenly, Maria stopped. She looked at the pale strands of her hair still clinging to the wheat that danced in the breeze. The wheat swayed back and forth, rocking her. There was only the sound of the wind. Maria sank to her knees and prayed, “Oh God… if anyone saw me now they would think I am crazy… and I know I am not crazy.” The wheat bowed and brushed against her. Maria prayed for the strength to go on – and then walked back to the house to bury her daughter.
The next year brought another baby. It was stillborn. Ten little graves…
Maria tried again – and this time, had a little girl she named Berta. At the age of 43 Maria gave birth to a son, Willie. Henry Jr., Berta, and Willie – lived.
I remembered Maria as I watched my daughter struggle. I knew that because Maria had found strength, I could too. I didn’t know how long I would have my daughter, but I knew that I would love her, as much as I could – for as long as I could… With every heart beat and with every breath.
***
My children, are the great, great grandchildren of Maria. The woman who persevered… who dared to hope. The mother who loved, let go, and had the courage to love again.
“Everything Means Something” by Joanna Ott
Writing the depth of passion and faithful love, the crumbling of nations at war, and the intricate biblical theology of Jewish scholars is only something one as dedicated to her work as author Bodie Thoene can master. The pen of the writer has the strength of the bronzed warrior, the persuasion of the orator, and the pierce of the sword. When properly and climactically printed, words can open the door to imagine what the heart feels, how the body suffers, and what the eyes of the author see. Bodie Thoene, with her degrees in journalism and communication, has written her heart into the pages of over sixty books, and through various characters and plotlines, she has opened my eyes to the wonders of an entire history timeline that would otherwise be distant in my mind. With her pen, everything takes meaning; nothing is inconsequential; “everything means something”. Her words show me the truth of human nature; the pain of loss and the power of love intertwined to create a masterpiece of realism. Through the testimonies of her characters, I have grown to understand the workings of my heart more clearly, and to know the mind of Bodie as if I knew her personally.
The mere twelve years between 1936 and 1948 were filled with millions of individual stories, left without a voice until Bodie adopted each account as her subject matter. By learning true accounts of those who survived the oppression of Nazi Germany during those dark years, Bodie has written her novels from a heart that aches for the victims. A heart that will never let the memory or the heroism die. Through the tears of the child, or the prayers of the grandfather, the chamber music of the Jewish performer, and the film footage of the American news reporters, one story after another is put into graspable terms and the horror of those times in our history is brought to surface.
We cannot deny the facts, and the chronological order of events that have shaped our world today. But it is the tenderness of the personal tragedy that brings history to life. Bodie has written her books because she cares for each story. I have read her books because through her pen, I care for each story.
Thoene novels have inspired me toward a passion for writing, but they also inspire in me spiritual growth as I mature into adulthood. Behind the examples of her characters who are wise and foolish, brave or cowardly, young and old, I feel myself looking up to Bodie as the soul of my encouragement.
It is said that behind every great man is a great woman, but I think that for me, behind every great book is Bodie Thoene.
“Vinne Bump” by Jody Day
Mercy Lavinia Warren “Vinnie” Bump stood 32 inches at her tallest. Born with proportional dwarfism, she lived in Middleborough, Massachusetts with her parents, two brothers, and her little sister, Minnie, also a dwarf. A school teacher, her students towered over her, but she commanded obedience, respect, and scholarship. She carried a tiny step stool everywhere she went. This quiet life seemed the only destiny for this tiny woman: safe, secure, far from the scrutiny of curious eyes.
Vinnie longed for more. She could not and would not live in the shadow of a real life without its many experiences; ups and downs, happiness and tragedy. She shocked her parents when she accepted a contract to perform in a traveling show on a Mississippi steamboat. Her dream to see the world dimmed at first by poor treatment at the hands of the unscrupulous cousin who ran the show. Eventually she garnered the attention of the great P.T. Barnum and soon was his star attraction. She enjoyed singing for her audience and then greeting guests in the tradition of a refined and cultured lady. She married General Tom Thumb (Charles Stratton), entered into society with the likes of President and Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, and received more media coverage than the Civil War.
Although rich and famous, her life was not without obstacles. Danger lurked in ordinary places. The streets threatened a sea of knees, trampling horses, or crushing carriages. It took a tremendous effort to speak to anyone on the same level, eye to eye. In a day when head size equaled intelligence, Vinnie demonstrated a keen mind, a quick wit, and a compassion for her fellow man.
Her baby sister and best friend Minnie married a dwarf and died in childbirth. Vinnie and her husband narrowly escaped “the worst hotel fire in American history”, at Newell House in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The ordeal quite possibly caused the stroke that took Tom Thumb’s life six months later.
Vinnie’s life touches and inspires me because she was an overcomer. She defined her size and charted her own course. She met and conquered obstacles on her terms. She refused to be stereotyped as a freak, curiosity, or less than the woman that she saw herself as being and becoming. She focused on what she could do, not on what she could not do. She embraced and enhanced the possible, never giving a moment’s notice to the impossible. This inspiration makes my dreams seem possible, and puts inconveniences and obstacles in perspective.
Although a woman of the Victorian era in the United States, the life of Mercy Lavinia Warren Bump is a shining example to women today. She is a kindred spirit and reminds me of our favorite red-haired heroine who said “The little things of life, sweet and excellent in their place, must not be the things lived for; the highest must be sought and followed; the life of heaven must be begun here on earth.”
“Anne Frank” by Kathryn Williamson
A woman who is inspiring is a woman who has made her mark and has held her own. Even in the times of hardship, discrimination, and stereotypes. As a young, developing, and creative social-butterfly, Anne Frank gives inspiration to me and many other young women. She had a happy and loving family who loved her no matter what. Even when her sister Margot was called the polite and gentle flower she still made herself known. She loved to right and bring out emotion in every crowd she read to. As WWII began she kept her spirits up with romantic classic movies, dreaming, and writing. On her thirteenth birthday she received a red and white checkered diary. She immediately began writing and named her diary kitty. Through the next few years she would use it to keep from exploding from the world around her. The diary gave her hope that someday even years from now the world would be at peace. Even as people were in a panic she kept her hope and believed that all people were good and pain and suffering would end. Through the years of hiding and being quiet she still wrote what she thought and impacted many people with her words. When being caught all she thought about was the future and what an impact she could make on the world. Her wish was to publish her diary and share the thoughts and feelings of a family in hiding. She never thought that people would care about the everyday life of a young woman, but her words inspire a new person everyday. She inspires me with her courage, stamina, hope, and dignity. She makes me feel like a young woman can make a difference in the thoughts, feeling, and decisions of the world today.
