Meant to Be

by Melody Carlson

  What Teens Are Saying About

  DIARY OF A TEENAGE GIRL SERIES…

  “I think Meant to Be and the whole Diary series are wonderful. I enjoyed reading them so much, and I feel like I am friends with the characters.”

  —HEATHER

  “I laughed, I cried…and I believed. I hope you make more Diary of a Teenage Girl series and another chick whose going through the same stuffall of us are.”

  —SAMMY

  “Melody Carlson has done it again. The trials and tribulations Kim faces in Just Ask remind me of my own life. This is a must-read!”

  —SARAH

  “Just Ask shows the amazing works of God in a realistic teenage lifestyle.”

  —ASHLEY

  “These are the greatest books of all time! They've really gotten me thinking about my relationship with God. Melody Carlson totally understands us girls, and I fully respect that!”

  —MORGAN

  “ Becoming Me shined the light on some things that I have been trying to figure out for a long time now and helped me see some things that I couldn't see before.”

  —ELIZABETH

  ’My Name Is Chbe was awesome! I love how God was laced into everything that happened. I couldn't wait to read the second one, and now I can't wait to read the third one!”

  —EMILY

  “I couldn't believe how easy it was to relate Chloe to myself; it was really weird. But then I realized there was nothing weird about it…it was God. God used Sold Out to pull me back to Him, and I couldn't be more thankful.”

  —MEGAN

  “Sold Out is so totally cool, mostly because of how real it is. I love this book!”

  —CATI

  “This series of books are the best books I have ever read. I have never liked to read, but one day my friend told me about I Do, and I LOVED it. I could not put this book down.”

  —KiMBERLY

  “The Diary of a Teenage Girl series is like no other I have read. I just finished In My Life and absolutely loved it! I feel like this girl, Caitlin O'Conner, is living my life. I look forward to reading the rest of the books in the series.”

  —CAROLYN

  “I feel so free when I read this series! It's absolutely so intriguing, fun to read, exciting, emotional, and sad all at the same time! You don t know what to expect when you turn the next page. All my friends are already hooked on this series!

  —MEGAN

  Books by Melody Carlson:

  Piercing Proverbs

  DIARY OF A TEENAGE GIRL SERIES

  Caitlin O'Conner:

  Becoming Me

  In My Life

  Who I Am

  On My Own

  I Do!

  Chloe Miller:

  My Name Is Chloe

  Sold Out

  Road Trip

  Face the Music

  Kim Peterson:

  Just Ask

  Meant to Be

  Falling Up (February 2006)

  TRUE COLOR SERIES

  Dark Blue, color me lonely

  Deep Green, color me jealous

  Torch Red, color me torn

  Pitch Black, color me lost

  Burnt Orange, color me wasted

  Fools Gold, color me consumed

  Bhde Silver, color me scarred

  Bitter Rose, color me broken (February 2006)

  One

  Saturday, December 17

  Christmas break started today Wait a minute, let s make that winter break. Its the latest controversy around here. Do we call the activities during this time of year “Christmas” or “winter”? For some reason it's got everybody worked up. And unfortunately winter seems to be winning.

  Same thing happened with our orchestra concert last week. I mean, Fve always called it the Christmas Concert since we play mostly Christmas music. But this year it was officially changed to the Winter Concert in order for the school to be more politically correct and avoid any civil lawsuits. Yeah, right. They even had to reprint the posters, and at no small expense either. The only consolation was that we still played some real Christmas tunes including “Silent Night.” Although I hear that may all change by next year.

  Well, okay, I suppose it's not the end of civilization as we know it, and it's not like I want to offend some minority religious group, but the truth is, it does irk me a little. I mean, here I am actually celebrating the real reason for the season this year—since I'm a real Christian now—and it seems that everyone else is trying to strip the word “Christmas” off of everything.

  I suppose Hallmark will start marketing winter cards to send to all your friends. “Merry Winter, hope you and yours stay warm and dry this season.” The ironic thing is that last Christmas, back when I truly believed I was a bom-again Buddhist, this kind of absurdity would've made me extremely happy. Now, it just makes me sad.

  Okay, that's not the only reason I'm sad. I'm mostly sad about Mom's diagnosis of ovarian cancer. It's like I can feel this gloomy cloud hanging over our entire house now. Although if anyone had been watching my mom these past few days, I'm sure no one would guess that anything is wrong. She's like Mrs. Santa—baking cookies and nut breads, decorating the house, and wrapping packages as if…well, as if it's her last Christmas.

  Even writing those words right now puts a huge lump in my throat, and I can't believe it's true. I keep telling myself maybe it's not. Maybe there's been a mistake, a misdiagnosis. Or maybe it's just going to go away.

  For the past couple of weeks, I've gone online regularly trying to read up on the latest treatments for the kind of cancer my mom has, and while most of the news is rather dismal, I have discovered a few encouraging stories. And I do believe its possible that my mom could survive this thing. At least I try to believe it. Sometimes I get pretty depressed.

  “Everyone in my church is praying for your mom,” Natalie assured me at school yesterday when she noticed I was feeling down. “And a lot of people have sent word out to their online prayer chains, which could mean that literally thousands of people are praying for her right now.” Her blue eyes got bigger. “Do you have any idea what that means, Kim?”

  I didn't say anything. I guess I was just feeling too bummed to respond intelligently.

  “It means that God could do a real miracle!”

  “I know,” I finally said. “Its just hard sometimes…to believe, you know?”

  “But I thought you said your mom is feeling better now, and that she even believes she's going to be healed.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I guess she does. I mean, her spirits are up, and she's acting perfectly normal.

  “So you need to do the same thing. For her sake, you need to at least act like you believe she'll be healed, Kim. And maybe it's one of those faith things. Our pastor was talking about that last week. Like when Abraham stepped out into the desert and when Moses stepped into the Red Sea—it was all about faith. But they had to take that first step, and then God stepped in and did the miracle. You know what I mean?”

  And suddenly I sort of did understand what she meant. “Yeah,” I finally said. “Maybe that's what my mom's doing now—taking that step of faith.”

  “And you need to do it too. We all have to believe this for her, Kim. We have to expect a miracle. Who knows, maybe it will happen at Christmas. Can you imagine how cool that would be?”

  And so for a while at school, I really did feel somewhat encouraged, and I really did believe that God could and would do a miracle for my mom. I was being really positive when I got home too. And I told Mom that I believed she was going to be healed. She just smiled and nodded like she believed it too. And everything was pretty cool.

  Then this morning, I went online again. I visited some new medical websites, which turned out to have some less-than-happy fact
s, and now I'm feeling all discouraged again. The stupid thing is, I only went online to pick out some letters for my Just Ask Jamie column. Instead I ended up spending the whole morning getting thoroughly depressed. So much for my big step of faith, huh?

  Anyway, I finally quit searching the web for miracles and went to my e-mail box, reading the most recent letters that had been forwarded to me from the newspaper. I'm supposed to be looking for something that specifically pertains to Christmas, since Dad suggested I focus next week's column on Christmas, and I finally found a couple that will work.

  Dear Jamie,

  I'm feeling really torn. My parents got divorced a few years ago, and they both want me to spend Christmas with them this year. My dad recently remarried and just invited me to go on a very cool skling vacation in Aspen, Colorado, with him and his new wife and her kids-which sounds totally awesome. But then my mom would be all alone, and she's already kind of depressed, so I feel sort of bad about leaving her behind. What should I do?

  Guilt Ridden

  Dear Guilt Ridden,

  I think you already know the answer to your question. But let me ask you a question-what does Christmas really mean to you? Have you heard about the baby who left His Father's glorious kingdom to be born in a drafty old barn and into a family that was considered “peasant class”? That was the first Christmas… and it was about things like love and sacrifice and mercy. 1 guess the real question is, what kind of Christmas do you want to celebrate this year?

  Just Jamie

  Okay, I hope that wasn't too harsh. I know my dad is expecting “uplifting” responses, but honestly, that letter just got to me. I mean, how could this person (not sure if it's a guy or girl) even consider ditching a hurting parent to go off to enjoy the lifestyles of the rich and famous? It just seems all wrong.

  What I really wanted to ask was, how would you feel if you knew your mother was dying? What if this was your last Christmas to be with her? Of course, I can't write that. And I'm probably imposing my own situation onto this poor person who's just writing to ask for advice, when I should be asking myself these questions.

  How would I feel if I knew this was Moms last Christmas with us? And can I even face the answer? The truth is, this is tearing me apart.

  Two

  Monday, December 19

  “Want to do some Christmas shopping with me?” my mom asks as I pour myself a cup of coffee and try to make my eyes open wide enough to see clearly. I've barely crawled out of bed, and I'm really not ready for any conversation yet. Still, this is Mom. I can't just ignore her.

  “When?” I ask.

  “This morning. Maybe we could leave early enough to avoid some of the last-minute shopping rush. Then we could have a nice lunch together, just the two of us.”

  Okay, I already told Matthew that I'd go ice skating with him at noon today. He's never been, and I promised that I'd teach him. But instead of telling Mom about my plans, I agree to go shopping with her. Then when I'm in my room, I call and leave a message on Matthew's cell phone.

  “Sorry, I won't be able to go skating with you today,” I say not wanting to go into the full explanation. “Uh, something came up. Do you think we could do it tomorrow instead? Let me know.”

  I believe it's the right thing to spend time with my mom, but I also feel a little bummed about canceling on Matthew like that. He was so excited about learning how to skate—it was cute the way he was worried about falling down and making a fool of himself. I can't believe he's never even gone before, and I'd really looked forward to this. I just hope he doesn't think I'm blowing him off. Especially considering that I've been a little chilly to him lately. But that's only because I've been so distracted by this thing with my mom. He should be able to understand that. Shouldn't he?

  “I thought you were all done with Christmas shopping,” I say as I back my Jeep out of the driveway. It's really surprising how comfortable my mom has gotten about my driving lately, but then I guess in light of everything else…well, she's probably not that worried about fender benders anymore.

  “I thought so too, but then I remembered a couple of things.” She leans back into the seat and sighs.

  I glance at her. “You okay?”

  She smiles. “Yes, I feel perfectly fine. I was just thinking what a beautiful day this is—so sunny and bright. Only it doesn't look like there's much chance of having a white Christmas this year.”

  “You never know…” I say hopefully. I've always been such a sucker for snow. I used to actually pray for snow every Christmas when I was little—before I gave up on God and turned to Buddha. I could pray for snow this year now that I'm a believer again, but then I have way more important things to pray for now. I don't plan on wasting God's time on something as silly as snow.

  When we get to the mall, there is tinny sounding Christmas music playing a little too loudly, a long line of impatient-looking kids waiting to see Santa, and lots and lots of last-minute shoppers hurrying around. Mom isn't moving too fast, but she seems to know where she's going, and it looks like she's heading straight for Dolman's jewelry store. Now I think this is kind of strange, but I just go along with her.

  “I wanted to get your dad something special,” she tells me as we go inside the formal-looking store where the music is quieter and more classical sounding.

  We walk up to a long glass case. “What's that?”

  “It's something he's always wanted, but I guess I never got around to finding one.”

  “What?” I'm suddenly feeling pretty curious since Dad has never been the kind of guy who's into jewelry. I mean, I certainly can't imagine him wearing gold chains or any other form of bling-bling for that matter.

  “A pocket watch.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” She pauses at a watch counter and looks down at all the shiny wristwatches. “His father had one that his father had given him. But he lost it on a fishing trip when Dad was a boy, and your father always felt like he missed out on something.”

  “Interesting…” I lean over the counter and look too, but I don't see any pocket watches, and I'm actually wondering if people even make them anymore.

  “Can I help you?” asks a tall redheaded saleswoman. I can't help but notice that this lady is dripping in diamonds: on her fingers, her wrist, around her neck. Even her ears are pierced several times, and each hole is sporting a diamond. I wonder if they're real and if they all belong to her or if she's just wearing them as an advertisement to entice shoppers. And if they do belong to her, why is she working as a salesclerk? Don't they just make minimum wage? Or maybe she owes her soul to the company store and will be working here to pay for her diamonds until she's an old lady.

  “I'm looking for a pocket watch,” my mom says almost apologetically. “Do you have any?”

  The diamond woman smiles. “Not many, but we do have a few. They're down this way.” She leads us to the end of the counter where she bends down and then pulls out a velvet-covered tray displaying about six different pocket watches.

  I pick up a gold one with a red stone set in the center. “This one is cool,” I tell Mom. Then I flip it over to see the price tag and am pretty surprised at the cost. Mom is looking at a silver one that I'm guessing is less expensive.

  “That's pretty,” I tell her as I carefully put the gold watch down.

  “You have very good taste,” says the salesclerk. “That one is platinum.”

  “Platinum?” I echo. “Isn't that even more expensive than gold?”

  She nods. “It's a precious metal like gold but more rare. And it's stronger too. That's important for a pocket watch since it rubs around in a pocket.”

  “Ill take it,” Mom says without even checking the price. I try not to blink or act too shocked. I can't see the price tag from where I'm standing, but I suspect that it must cost even more than the expensive one I just set down. Gulp.

  “Can you have it engraved?” my mom asks.

  “Certainly,” says the pleased salesclerk. �
��But it won't be ready until tomorrow. Our engraver is a little backed up with Christmas, you know.”

  “That's all right.” Mom follows the woman to the register. Now I'm feeling kind of sick about this. Mom is spending way too much money on this watch, and although I'm not an expert on our family's finances, we're normally pretty frugal. I can't help but think that Mom's doing this because she's worried that this might be her last chance…and it's making me feel seriously freaked.

  “Why don't you look around, honey, while I take care of this and fill out the engraving form.”

  I wander around the jewelry store feeling like a robot that's pretending to look at things but not really seeing anything. Mostly I'm thinking about Mom, trying to figure this thing out.

  “Can I help you?” asks a gray-haired salesman.

  “Huh?” I attempt to focus.

  “Are you shopping for anything specific?”

  “Oh, no…I'm just looking.”

  He smiles. “I know just what you need, young lady.”

  Now I'm curious. “What?” I ask him, almost as a challenge. “What is it you think I need?”

  “Come over here.” He leads me to a glass-covered case full of glistening diamonds—pendants and rings and bracelets and earrings. “After all,” he says, “diamonds are a girl's best friend.”

  I sort of roll my eyes as I lean over and look more closely at the sparkling jewelry. And although I've never considered myself a material girl, I am slightly fascinated by all that glitter. I'm trying to imagine what it must all be worth. “That's a lot of diamonds.”

  “I see that your ears are pierced. You'd look lovely in diamonds.”

  I kind of laugh. “Yeah, right. I'm only sixteen. Well, almost seventeen. I don't really have the budget for diamonds yet.”

  “So you haven't considered diamond studs earrings yet? Lots of girls your age wear them.”

  “I guess I'm waiting until I become rich and famous.”