God – Page 17

In Which I Fall Off of a Stool in front of the Class and Don’t Care

May 14, 2014 by Ann 3 Comments

This is a #WritingWednesdays post, and the prompt for today is: What is a recent moment or event in your life that has revealed how you have changed or grown as a person? How? This post is my response. I would love for you to share your response in the comments (above) or through a blog post of your own–link to it in the comments!

If you don’t know, my day job is as a college professor. I just turned in my grades yesterday, which is the finish line for any semester. Submitting those grades feels a bit like it did when I was a student handing in my last final exam–an emotion mixed with exultation and relief. I love what I do, but I also love summer–time to pull back, time to rest, time to unwind a bit. There are still lots of things that I do during the summer as a professor–prepping for courses, creating course readers, crafting syllabi–but the pace is slower, and there’s more time to breathe. Don’t get me wrong; the classroom is a place of true joy for me. But I love the pattern of intensity and rest that the academic calendar provides. And right now, I’m really enjoying the “rest” season.

I’m just starting to reflect on the school year that ended, and one moment strikes me with particular force and hilarity. In retrospect, it has revealed to me how much I have grown and changed over the last several years, and although the event was ridiculous, the response that surfaced in my heart was a welcome gift.

A little background: The courses I teach meet for two-hour blocks, and since I don’t want to stand for two hours, I bring a stool into my classrooms so that I can sit–or perch–while my students respond to writing prompts or discuss essays in small groups. The stool has been my faithful classroom companion for years.

A couple of weeks ago, the stool betrayed me. I honestly have no idea how it happened. One moment, I was sitting on the stool, talking with my students about some thrilling topic in the field of Creative Writing. The next moment, I was on the floor.

On. The. Floor.

I’m still perplexed about the entire thing–I used to be an athlete and tend to have a pretty good feel for controlling my body. But maybe I’m losing my stuff; I completely fell off of my stool. At least I caught myself with my hands and didn’t face-slam into the floor.

And then I smiled, got up, and kept teaching, chuckling to myself. My students, who had gasped moments before as I fell, were smiling with me; some of them laughed. I didn’t mind at all.

I called Michael after class to tell him about the whole event and was laughing so hard that I had to stop talking. I found the entire thing hysterical.

And I realized how much I’ve grown. Ten years ago–maybe even five years ago–I think I would have been mortified. I might have mulled over the fall for several days, worried about how ridiculous I looked or what my students thought of me. Instead, I had a good chuckle about it and moved on with my life.

Praise God.

He is the one who has bolstered my confidence–and it’s not confidence in myself. It’s confidence in Him. I can laugh about falling off of that stool because I’m not really worried about how I look to other people any more. I want to love others well, of course, and my desire is to radiate the love of Jesus in all I do. But I don’t really care if anyone thinks I’m “cool.” God has changed me. I have gone from being a woman with perfectionistic, people-pleasing traits to becoming a woman who is much more ok with not having it together. I’m not totally over my desire to look good to others, of course. But I’ve grown. And this growth? It has mostly come through brokenness in my life–financial uncertainty, job changes, horrible sickness during my pregnancy, a harder transition into motherhood than I expected. In those places, what really mattered came into extreme focus: God is in control, and he loves me. My weakness, emotionally and physically, was very obvious. But God’s presence and love was unshakable when everything else was shaking.

And so I can say, with God-confidence: I know I’m loved by God, and I know that I’m loved by my family and close friends, regardless of if I’m sitting on my perch or falling off my stool. And that’s really, really freeing.

And please, if you can relate to falling off of anything publicly, do share!

Filed Under: God, Uncategorized, Writing Wednesdays

Love Makes a Mother: Writing for Deeply Rooted Magazine

May 11, 2014 by Ann Leave a Comment

This is my first Mother’s Day with Ella in my arms–last year at this time I was waddling like a duck with Ella still tucked away inside of me (let’s be honest: “squished” is probably a more realistic term than “tucked”). I was three days away from her due date and praying for a Mother’s Day baby. But Ella was in no rush; she took her sweet time and was born five days past her due date on our seventh wedding anniversary.

Mother’s Day is a joyful day for some women and a difficult day for others. For many women, the day holds a mix of emotions. I would love to have you join me at Deeply Rooted Magazine today as I share about what truly makes someone a mother: love.

So to every woman who has mothered someone –physically, adoptively, or spiritually–thank you. You are reflecting the greatest Love, Christ himself.

Filed Under: Baby, God, Guest Post, Uncategorized

Why Spring Matters

May 7, 2014 by Ann 1 Comment

My husband is from Texas. I never thought I’d marry a Texan, being a Northern girl, but I’ve become quite fond of the state–it has abundant sunshine, no state income tax, and in-laws that I love dearly. And although I am grateful for my community and family here in Illinois, there is always a moment in the middle of, say, January, when I start watching the weather report for Texas and I wonder, again, why we live in the cold.

The sunlight fades so rapidly in the winter that I am constantly shocked. It is like losing my keys every day of the week at 4 pm–I’m sure I just misplaced the sunlight, or just set it down here, or just forgot it in my purse over there. But no. The grayness is perpetual. And after December passes, I have moments where I feel like a disgruntled Narnian: always winter, never Christmas.

But then comes May. And I remember that Illinois has redeeming qualities. Because there is nothing–nothing–like the transformation that occurs after a difficult winter.

It is an awakening.

I stop flinching every time I open the front door. I stop waking up in pale light. I stop closing the blinds. I stop feeling slightly sad.

Spring.

Spring. Both a noun and a verb–a delightful combination in a word. And it means both. Spring, as a beloved season, is lush and full and beautiful and hopeful. And it is springing–up, up, up through the earth that has been wetted with a trillion flakes of snow. There is life that has been hiding there, waiting. There are blossoms that have been waiting in seeds, colors that have been waiting in the darkness. There is a breath that has been held, and now the earth is exhaling.

And now all becomes visible. All of the hidden colors and seeds and life come bursting through the earth to declare a new season. To declare a new start. To declare that winter is not the end. To declare a good God who does not let death have the last word. And the disgruntled Narnian in me starts remembering that Aslan is on the move.

This is why Spring matters to me–it reminds me that even the things that look the deadest and most withered can be revived. That earth that has been hardened by ice so think no saw could cut it through–that same earth will become tender with life. The places in my heart that feel dead, or tired, or gray, or just sad–they can be made new. In Christ, they will be made new.

Spring is here. And I am thankful to live in a place where the extremes of the seasons on this swirling earth remind me of a greater Story that is swirling around me.

*This is a Writing Wednesdays post! The prompt for this week: Take a word–like “spring”–that has more than one meaning, and write about ways that those meanings overlap and connect. And, as always, I would love for you to leave a comment linking to your favorite piece of writing from your own blog, or to a response to this prompt!

Filed Under: God, Life, Uncategorized, Writing, Writing Wednesdays Tagged With: abundant life, faith, God, new life, spring, writing Wednesdays

On How Performing and Producing Kill Our Souls

May 2, 2014 by Ann Leave a Comment

The campus where I work is abloom. The magnolia trees are full; this is the time of year when campus feels the most collegiate to me—everything green and vibrant and alive. The students are neck-deep in papers and finals and projects, but all around them the very trees are singing out that summer is coming. Summer. Growth. New life.

Michael and I have been leading a small group of college students this year through our church, and last night was our final meeting for the semester. We read through the first part of John 15, discussing what it means to abide in Jesus. And I was struck afresh with the power of the word of God.

Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full. -John 15:4-11

Last night, we talked about the responsibility that we have as those you follow Jesus—and how simple and yet how difficult that responsibility is. Our job is to stay connected to the vine—to stay connected to Jesus. It is not our responsibility to produce fruit; in and of ourselves we can’t do anything. We can’t make wonderful and important things happen in our lives on our own. We can’t do things that will change the world and impact those around us on our own. In short, we can’t produce anything of lasting value on our own. And we will kill ourselves trying.

But the beautiful mystery is that as we abide in Jesus—as we pour our time, hearts, and attention into knowing and loving and serving him—he will work in and through us. He will produce the fruit in our lives that we are meant to produce. Although the rest of the world is yelling otherwise, it is not our responsibility to perform and produce. Our responsibility is to stay connected to Christ. He will take care of the rest.

The flowering trees on campus remind me of this. Throughout the long winter, the branches stayed connected to the trunks. They may not have looked flashy three months ago, but now, because they have stayed rooted, they are blossoming. And their beauty points back to the Creator.

As we abide in him, our lives will do the same.

Filed Under: God, Life

Hope Has Risen & a Little Light Prints Giveaway!

April 21, 2014 by Ann 12 Comments

Through the long season of Lent, we have finally–and joyfully–arrived at Easter. From my days in a liturgical church, I can hear the refrain echoing:

He is risen! He is risen indeed!

There is another refrain that I remember, another call and response that echoes that ache we often feel:

Christ is risen! Christ will come again!

Christ will come again. I talked with a friend this morning about the reality of living in the tension between the now and the not yet of faith. We talked about how Lent, perhaps more than any other season in the Christian calendar, reminds us of the dissonance that often exists between the desires of our hearts and the reality of our existence. There is still brokenness, both in ourselves and in the world we inhabit. There is still pain. And yet. Yet.

Christ will come again.

There is a day coming when he will make all things new, when brokenness and pain will no longer exist. And Easter, with all of its hope and celebration, points us to that day. The day where all things are made right in Christ.

Sometimes, though, the days get long and hard, and we need reminders of those truths. I’ve written before about how putting Scripture up in our homes can encourage us and help us stay connected to Jesus when our hearts are tired or busy. And today, I’m thankful to have the opportunity to partner with Little Light Prints to give away an 8×10 print to one of my readers–the winner gets to choose her print!

Here are two of my favorites:

I love Carly’s prints and just purchased one for my daughter’s nursery. She has generously offered an 8×10 print of the winner’s choice as a giveaway–enter below!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Filed Under: Baby, Giveaway, God, Uncategorized