A light mist of white was falling, the snowflakes landing and gathering in the wet grass.

At the
end of McAlister Park, past the softball fields and the icy ponds, sat a solitary building blanketed
in a thin dusting of snow. Icicles hung down from the roof of that old, Victorian style house. It
was battered and worn, one edge of the front porch sagging slightly into the ground, the
weathervane at the top of the tower crooked from decades of storms. But Whits End still stood,
a strong and mighty fortress, resolutely planted on the frozen landscape.
A warm glow streamed out from the front windows and onto the snow-covered ground. A
few kids milled around inside the building, sipping from mugs of hot cocoa and recounting their
Christmas gift hauls to each other. The hit this year was a new pair of shoes called Smart
Sneakers. They could change color and even lift the wearer about a foot off the ground for about
ten seconds at a time if desired. The shoes, being voice-activated, were not invulnerable to
security threats. The kids attempted to set off each others shoes by saying the magic words and
were often successful in lifting either themselves or someone else into the air. After about five
minutes of this game, the shoes batteries had all run out.
A beautiful Christmas tree bearing sparkling ornaments stood in the corner of the eating
area. It would be taken down after New Years Day, but for now it was allowed to stand tall,
emitting its natural pine scent into the room. A small candle flickered at each table as Christmas
carols still played softly over the radio. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged woman with
short, black hair and glasses. She was bent over an old, leather bound book, turning each page
with great care. It was her grandfathers copy of The Everlasting Man by G. K. Chesterton.
Academic in nature, yes, but that was what she thrived on.
Crash!
The woman looked up from her reading to find where the noise had come from. Halfexpecting to see a kid lying on their back after being lurched into the air by a pair of Smart
Sneakers, she was surprised to see not one but two glass ice cream bowls had shattered on the
floor. She closed the book and placed it safely behind the counter. Then she made her way
towards the scene of destruction.
Im sorry, Mrs. Whittaker! Im sorry! came the distressed cry from Alexander Barns, a
boy of ten with large blue eyes ready to tear up.
Mrs. Whittaker, whose full name would have been Guinevere Whittaker-Dowd-Rogers,
Guinevere Rogers on official documents, or just Jenny for short, stood with her arms crossed in
front of her chest.
What happened here? she asked.
I was trying to show James how youre supposed to hold out your arms when youre
floating wearing a pair of those new sneakers. So I spread out my arms like this, said

Alexander, motioning with his arms again. But I accidentally knocked our banana splits onto
the ground.
Jenny Whittaker smiled a little. Its alright; it was an accident. Just try to be more
careful next time.
Alexander glanced sheepishly at the mess on the floor. I can clean it up for you.
James nodded, his mop of brown hair bouncing as he did so. I could help too.
No, not this time, boys, she replied, bending down to more closely examine the broken
bowls. Glass shards can be dangerous. Ive got just the thing for this.
Mrs. Whittaker stepped back over to the counter and retrieved what appeared to be a
perfect sphere, grey and shiny, slightly larger than a golf ball. She placed it on the tiled floor and
it immediately buzzed to life. A white glow seemed to emanate from it for a second and then the
sphere shot off across the floor, spinning and whirring as it went.
Whats it doing? asked James.
Cleaning, said Jenny. Its a high-powered vacuum Ive been working on.
Ive seen something like that before, said Alexander.
This one is different, said Jenny. Watch.
The shining ball zipped around the room at an incredible speed, curving its way around
chairs and tables. Everyone watched as it did a figure eight around Alexander and Jamess table
on the one side and Mrs. Whittaker on the other. Then it began to tackle the smashed ice cream
dishes. As it vacuumed up the pieces, the sphere began to grow. Soon it was the size of a
volleyball and the mess of glass shards, ice creams scoops and banana pieces was gone, leaving a
clean floor behind.
Wow, thats pretty cool, said James.
But then there was a crunching sound, the noise of metal grinding against glass, and the
sphere suddenly sped off in a straight line towards the wall. There was a crash and two or three
sparks appeared, leaving the smell of smoke lingering behind. A couple of kids gasped.
Is it dead? asked James.
Mrs. Whittaker frowned and adjusted her glasses. She walked over to the steaming
invention and reached down to examine it. A fuse must have shorted out. I might need to work a
bit more on the wiring.

At that moment the front door opened and in came a girl wearing a blue and white knit
cap and wrapped in a thick wool scarf. Her face was flushed from the cold.
Good afternoon, Jane, said Mrs. Whittaker, quickly disposing of the broken vacuum.
Hi, replied Jane Mumford. What is that smell? Are you making pizza?
Not exactly. We simply had a small accident. Mrs. Whittaker reached up to open a
window before returning to her spot behind the counter. Can I get you anything?
Jane approached the front counter and sat down on a stool. Hmmm, she said, scratching
her nose. Can I have an egg nog?
Jenny Whittaker heard Alexander say, Egg nog? Yuck! in the background and she
hoped the girl hadnt heard him. Jenny opened the fridge and poured a fresh glass of egg nog.
She sprinkled some cinnamon on top and then served it to the girl.
Jane took the cup and sipped a little. Then she set it down again and let out a sigh.
Is something wrong with it? asked Mrs. Whittaker. Im been tinkering with the recipe
slightly so it might not be what youre used to.
No, its fine, Jane said. Im just tired.
The hustle and bustle of the holidays festivities becoming a little overwhelming?
Yeah, that and everything else. Its too much to explain.
Bam!
Jenny looked to where Alexander was seated but he was looking at the window. She
turned her gaze up to see a flying drone had just smacked into the outside of the window.
Not again, she said.
Whats that? asked Jane.
Its the mail.
The drone reeled back from the impact and then surged forward again, this time sailing in
through the open window. It flew down and rested on the counter, depositing a small package in
front of Mrs. Whittaker. Then it launched into the air again, barely clearing the window frame
this time to make its escape from the shop.
I wonder what this could be.

Jenny looked it over and then carefully unwrapped the thin, rectangular package. She
unveiled a disc in a plastic case.
Whats that? asked Jane.
Its a CD. That stands for compact disc. It can be used to store information, Mrs.
Whittaker said. She looked again at the return address. Its from some missionary friends of
mine. The Meltsner family in Central Africa. Ill have to look at it later if I can find an old CD
drive somewhere.
On the back of the CD case was a sticky note that said, Keep in a safe place. Jenny
stowed the CD behind the counter next to her old, leather bound book, two relics of the past side
by side.
I remember those, said Alexander, who had turned in his chair to face them. My dad
has those in his study. I could never figure out how to get them to work though.
Well, current technology has fair outstripped the capability of CDs, so few people use
them today. Have you heard of Moores law? asked Jenny.
Nope, replied Alexander.
Does it have something to do with computers getting more powerful? James laughed at
his own joke.
Something like that, said Jenny. But its more complicated I must say. I have a few
books on its development and its flaws. I could retrieve them if youd like to read more about it.
Thats okay, Mrs. Whittaker. As long as at least someone understands those things,
said Alexander. Im glad Im a kid now and not twenty or thirty ago. No offense, but those
people had nothing back then. I wonder why Africa is still using CDs. Why are they so behind
the times?
Au contraire, the continent of Africa is a diverse place and isnt always what we like to
think of it as. The Meltsners happen to live in a very remote village, so they dont have access to
updates in technology as fast as the rest of us. But much of Africa isnt like that at all.
Alexander didnt look convinced. He took a pair of what looked like goggles from his
pocket and turned to his friend James. Have you downloaded the latest version of
Exterminoids? Theyve added eight new levels and a wormhole that goes through space! He
strapped the googles to his face, hiding his eyes from view.
No, I told you I dont have that game, said James. My parents dont let me play
anything unless they can see what Im doing.

But these Specs are the best! said Alexander.

Specs? asked Jenny.
The glasses, James replied. Theyre called Magic Spectacles. You can use them to
play games and stuff. They use your eye movements to control your character.
And they bring the action right up close! said Alexander loudly, evidently in the middle
of an exciting game.
You know, sometimes its good to have a break from technology, said Mrs. Whittaker.
What do you mean a break? That sounds painful. Woah, where did that alien come
from? I better blast it with my lasers! There we go! said Alexander, now absorbed in gameplay,
leaving James to sit silently beside him.
We could play multiplayer if youd just buy some Specs, you know, said Alexander.
I know, said James, But its not going to happen anytime soon.
The little bell above the front door jingled and in stepped Ruth Morris, a college student
who occasionally worked at Whits End. She was panting slightly as she wiped her boots on the
mat.
Ruth, hello, said Jenny.
Hi, Mrs. WhittakerI mean Jenny. Did you notice the weather? The snows starting to
come down pretty heavily now, said Ruth.
Jenny looked outside at the thick snowflakes pouring down from the sky and stacking up
high on the ground. Youre right. It might be better to close up early. Im sorry for calling you
down here. I thought the shop would be busier today.
Its okay, said Ruth. Its never a chore to visit this old place.
Jenny and Ruth announced that the shop would be closing and began clearing off tables
and informing the kids upstairs about the thick snow. James had to nudge Alexander several
times before he responded to his warnings that they should head home. Alexander claimed he
had heard what James was saying the whole time and was just trying to finish off one last level.
As she was packing up, Jenny caught sight of the girl Jane still sitting alone at the
counter, sipping the last of her eggnog.
Everything alright, Jane? Almost finished? Mrs. Whittaker asked.
Yeah, I guess, she said drearily.

Are you going to tell me whats wrong?

Jane sighed. I dont like all the changes that have come to Odyssey in the last few years.
All the screens everywhere and the bright lights. Its all happened so fast.
Thats true, but change isnt always bad. Weve developed some really useful
technology. Self-driving cars for one thing, said Jenny. Although, I have to admit I still drive
my car myself, so maybe I dont fully trust them yet. But my lifes been improved in other ways.
Take this for instance.
Mrs. Whittaker reached into her pocket and took out what looked like a pen.
What is that, a stylus? A screwdriver? asked Jane.
Not quite, said Jenny, pressing a button on the end of it. Out of the pen came a thin
rectangular sheet like a scroll. The sheet rolled out and then straightened into a rigid surface.
Then it lit up and different icons and buttons appeared on it.
I havent seen that before, said Jane. What does it do?
Its not available in stores. I use it to control the electronics in the shop.
Jenny launched a program and a womans face appeared on the screen.
Hello, Mabel, Jenny said.
Hello, Jenny Whittaker, replied the woman on the screen.
Mabel, please shut down all the displays, said Jenny.
Powering down displays, Mabel said.
That was easy, said Jane.
I know. This invention is similar to one my grandfather invented years ago but its a lot
more powerful of an interface now, said Jenny.
Well, maybe not all change is bad. But that doesnt stop me from missing how life used
to be.
Thats true. But thats the way life is, isnt it? We dont stay the same people we were
five, ten, or twenty years ago. Instead, God helps us to grow, making us into the people he wants
us to be. But the most important things dont change, like Gods love for all of us.
But what about when it feels like were going backwards? Like were going downhill?

Etched lines of concern appeared on Jennys face. Are you referring to something
specific?
Yeah. My parents. Theyre getting a divorce. Thats not what God wants, is it? How is
this supposed to be part of his plan? she said, close to tears.
Jenny laid a hand on her shoulder. Im sorry, Jane, Im sorry. Its hard, I know. But
youll get through thiswe all will with Gods help.
How do you know that? asked Jane.
Jenny bit her lip. Because the same thing happened to me. My parents got divorced
when I was young. I remember crying in my room sometimes years later, asking God why. I
remember thinking it was all my fault. I asked myself over and over again about what I did
wrong. I thought everything would just go downhill from there.
And it didnt?
Im not saying its not hard now. It might even get worse before it gets better, but,
remember Romans 8:28?
What does that say?
Mabel, read that Bible verse, said Mrs. Whittaker.
Mabel jolted to life on the handheld screen. And we know that in all things God works
for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose, she said.
Even the bad things? asked Jane.
Even those, replied Jenny.
Okay, well, I better get home. Thanks, Mrs. Whittaker, said Jane. The girl reached over
the counter to hug Jenny, who gladly wrapped her arms around her.
Goodbye, Jane! Jenny called after her as she left out the door.
Ruth then approached Mrs. Whittaker. Everythings ready for closing, Jenny, she said.
Alright, good. Go on home, Ruth. Ill lock up the shop, said Jenny.
Okay. A happy new year to you! said Ruth.
You too, Ruth, said Jenny.
Jenny Whittaker stood alone the deserted, darkened shop. She retrieved her book and CD
from behind the counter and slipped them into her purse. She was halfway to the door when she

heard that the radio was still playing. She stopped to listen. A couple of violinists played that
familiar tune, Silent Night. When it came to the line Sleep in heavenly peace, Jenny felt a lump
form in her throat. She thought of her grandfather, John Avery Whittaker, who had passed away.
She turned her gaze to the framed photo of him on the wall. He smiled warmly back at her, with
kind eyes. She felt tears forming in her own eyes. She switched off the radio, slipped on her coat,
and turned to leave.
It had been ten years since her grandfather had died. And just two years ago she had
heard the news that her uncle Jason had been killed. Jenny let out a sigh. It seemed the older she
got the more she thought about the past and all the things she had lost.
Once Jenny was on the front step she took out Mabel again and told her to lock the doors.
The locks clicked shut and Mabel bid her goodbye.
One more thing, Mabel. Read that passage from The Everlasting Man, again. The one I
told you to remember.
Mabel did so. Pessimism is not in being tired of evil but in being tired of good. Despair
does not lie in being weary of suffering, but in being weary of joy. It is when for some reason or
other the good things in a society no longer work that the society begins to decline; when its food
does not feed, when its cures do not cure, when its blessings refuse to bless.
Thanks, Mabel.
Jenny Whittaker knew she needed to remember that. She told herself not to forget the
many blessings God gave her, or to grow tired of doing good for others. What a life she lived.
She loved others and they loved her back. She looked upon her past with fond memories, but at
the same time she felt she could be optimistic about the future. It was all in Gods hands, after
all. She left Whits End and began her journey home through the winter snow.