"I am a professional writer."

Those were the words spoken to me and my seventh grade classmates by the new, no-nonsense, English teacher sitting on a stool before us at the start of a brand new school year. Some of us rudely rolled our eyes and the rest chuckled audibly and with disdain at her introduction. She went on to reveal her extensive resume', past experiential roles, and her clear, over-qualification for the job. She also expressed the deep value she placed on reading and writing and said, "THIS English class is going to be unlike anything you've ever had before".

And it was.

The first thing she did was chuck the endless grammar lessons and diagramming of sentences out the third story window.
And we all cheered.
She arranged our desks in groups to encourage feedback on each others written work and she started treating us like real authors with un-mined potential. Her shelves were lined with dog-eared paperbacks and several chair cushions were stuffed in corners, ready to pull out for good, flop-on-the-floor reading time.

She read to us aloud almost every day from that lofty stool we once scorned. Back in my day this was akin to secret church meetings in the third-world underground and we loved her for it. She probed our minds and hearts for reactions and thoughts towards the characters and plot that came alive in her voice and we wrote and wrote and wrote. Willingly!
Those assigned book reports were no more. She took the suffocating rules and expectations off of reading and writing for us that year and we blossomed under her expertise and boldness to blaze a new trail.

This seventh and eighth grade teacher of mine went on to become an American educator who in 2015 became the first recipient of the Global Teacher Prize, a $1 million prize awarded by the Varkey Foundation to "one innovative and caring teacher who has made an inspirational impact on their students and community." She founded the nonprofit Center for Teaching and Learning and wrote nine books, selling more than half a million copies.

I've lost touch with her but she left her mark on me by teaching me that what I had to say through the written word was important and worthy, an encouraging idea for a shy but creative seventh-grader.
I started writing on my own, filling blank journals with poems, short stories and thoughts and continued as I journeyed through high school and college. 

As an adult, life as I knew it was turned upside down when my four-year-old son was diagnosed with an aggressive kidney cancer. Not only did a battle begin in the flesh and blood for my boy, but an all-out spiritual war and incredulous spiritual journey began for me.

Thus began my story. The one that I believe I am finally ready to share. God knows I'd rather take the easy way out and remain silent. He knows my writing confidence is at an all time low. But He also knows me, chapter by chapter, line by line, and that He will most assuredly be glorified through the honest telling of exactly what He's done for me and wants to do for you. 

I don't know exactly how this is going to unfold. Today is a day of going back to my roots in seventh-grade English class and agreeing with God that it's time to start writing again.

You can "follow me" by entering your email above. Then you will get a notification when I publish a new blog post. My greatest desire is to write honestly and vulnerably AND to point your heart towards the One who rescued mine. 

Julie Anne