By the Sea: God's Plan For a First Grade Author

By the Sea

Uh-oh, a revelation unfolded. My first-grade logic proved incorrect. This memory dates back five decades, when I discovered my dream domain—the wonderful world of writing.

With squinted eyes, a furrowed brow, and one missing front tooth, I watched from my school desk in the far back corner of the room.

Mrs. Toms called her students one by one into a side room. Thud. The door closed. Minutes passed; the student emerged and called the next student. Were they receiving a gold star or candy? Were they in trouble? My stomach churned. Were we assigned a scripture to memorize, and I forgot? I ruled out the trouble option because Mrs. Toms punished me in front of everyone once before. I reasoned she wouldn’t need to call us in privately for that.

Why was I chastised? The teacher instructed us to quietly take a nap, our heads down on our desks. Ginger whispered to another girl. (I remember the last name of the culprit who caused my corporal punishment, but won’t divulge it here.) As the self-appointed class police, I turned and said, “Shush. Be quiet.”

Mrs. Toms didn’t hear Ginger talking; she heard me. She marched back in her sky-blue dress, holding her ruler, and told me to hold out my hand. She held it tight and Whack. Large crocodile tears streamed down my face. My hand flashed red for a few seconds, sure. But that moment engraved embarrassment into my heart for eternity. When the characters mention the name “Newman” on Seinfeld, it’s always with a note of annoyance. That’s how I say “Ginger.” But back to the original story.

After what seemed like hours, it was finally my turn to learn what was happening. Mrs. Toms sat across the table from me in a tiny, colorful, plastic student chair. She turned a book towards me so I could see it clearly. I recognized it at once and beamed with pride.

Grimacing, my teacher opened the book and turned the pages. I was concerned she didn’t like my story. She asked questions, “Do you recognize this book?”

“Yes.”

“Did you take the book home?”

“Yes.”

“Did you write this story in the book?”

“Yes.” Why is she asking me these questions?

“Why did you write the story in the book?”

She’s gone mad. Does she not remember the assignment she gave us? “Check out a book from the library and write a story about it,” I explained that I took great pains to find a wordless book so I could write a story. “Am I in trouble?” I asked in a frightened, small voice.

Recognizing fear from my tears, she smiled and replied, “No, you’re not. This is a delightful story. Thank you for sharing it.” She then informed me that I was to draft my story on my own paper next time and not in the book.

Whoops. Mortified, I thought, my parents are going to be mad and might kill me. Obviously, they didn’t, or I wouldn’t be telling this story now. I chuckle when I recall this childhood incident. Years later, that book was given to me and is displayed in my office. It’s a miracle, through the more than ten moves I encountered in my youth, that this treasure continues to be in my care. Everything else was lost or left behind.

Events, both tragic and happy, necessary, and not so much, formed a barrier between me and the dream of becoming an author for so long that I thought that ship had sailed. Two years ago, my husband and I moved to a new location. This was to be our vacation home, but I soon realized I felt at home here. There were many friendly, helpful people, activities, and new options that weren’t available before.

At that time, I committed to authoring a book for the Lord. Within a month or less, He worked my steps into place like a puzzle, connecting me with the leader of a writing group. I hadn’t recognized a writing group, and critiques were essential, but I felt a “nudge” to join. It was in that group that I met a woman, now a dear friend, who, in her professional life, edited pieces for publication and now manages her blog, Living Seasons Ministry. She published my first “guest writer” piece, titled “My Heart Surgery.”

After that, God led me to a conference I was bent on NOT attending. He used the leader of the writing group, now also a dear friend, to convince me to flip the switch from “I’m not going” to “I can’t wait to go.”

At the conference, my work was selected for publication in a compilation, and I met a godly woman who founded a speaker conference, who later enhanced my presentation techniques. While eating a meal at the conference, I met the publisher who is publishing my first children’s picture book. At that time, I had no plans of writing any kind of children’s books. Now, I’m writing two separate series for different age groups.

Today, I watch actual “ships” (boats) sail by, but not with my dream. This first-grade author’s dream is a reality. I didn’t and don’t need to know what is essential. My Father does. He provides it, and He leads me to it. I’m laughing out loud as I write this. Seeing these details and steps in written form warms my heart. God can make anything happen. And looking at them, Jesus said to them, “With people this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”—Matthew 19:26 (NASB1995)

I want to tell everyone how God worked in my life, and that He can do the same for all of us. When He gives us a job to accomplish, He furnishes the resources. Unknown and invisible doors open wide. We only need a willing heart to walk through them, confident in His timing and His ability to conquer the challenges that come our way.

Note: If anyone knows the descendants of the author of By the Sea, please let me know.