Holy Rest

This week I wrote a devotional for a friend’s ladies retreat geared toward living with spiritual maturity. See below.

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Holy Rest

Clean the house. Do the dishes. Fold the laundry. Attend school sporting events. Make dinner. Listen. Give good advice—or bite your tongue. Do the dishes again. Fold another load of laundry. Make another meal. Vacuum the floor. Again. Do more listening. Wash more dishes. Search for missing socks. Grocery shop. Run errands. Volunteer at church. And school. And in the community. Load the dishwasher. Look, more laundry . . .

Do it again next week. And the next week. And over and over until forever.

Sometimes I feel like womanhood comes with a never-ending chore list that’s been multiplied times infinity. And I’m not just talking about the household chores, I’m also talking about the social and relational expectations we’re supposed to meet in our churches, our communities, and our families.

There is always someone else to love, something else to take care of, another job to be done.

The tasks never end. And to be honest, sometimes when I stop to fold the laundry, all I want to do is lay my head on the pile and take a nap. But I can’t, because I have too much to do. It’s all up to me, there’s no one to help, and resting is a waste of time.

But what if that mindset is wrong?

The first ten chapters of Matthew introduce us to Jesus—first, as a human baby born in Bethlehem (Matt. 1–4:11), then as the divine King-Messiah (Matt. 4:12–11:1).

Then, in Matthew 11:2, we get a glimpse into how those around Him are beginning to react to Jesus, as He starts to teach them like no one they’ve ever heard. Like the cute new boy walking into the high school lunch room, all eyes are on Jesus, and John the Baptist kicks things off like a fearless four-year-old who doesn’t know that there are some questions you just don’t ask.

“Are you the one who is to come, or is there another?”

John the Baptist knew the prophecies—they all did. And by now, there were plenty of signs pointing to the possibility that This Guy might be The One: He was born in Bethlehem, He cared about the marginalized, He healed the sick . . .

But John—and everyone else—was scratching his head, because he was waiting for a Messiah with a sword and a spear to free them from the Roman oppression, and this man, this Jesus, didn’t seem like a warrior. In fact, He didn’t appear to have any beef with the Romans. Instead, so far, He seemed to have more to say about the Pharisees and their religious tactics:

“They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger . . .” (Matt. 23:4) and He doesn’t stop there, ripping the Pharisees a new one up one side and down the other—but always, there is the common theme that they don’t get it, and more, that they’ve got the rules all wrong.

In fact, this alleged Messiah, the so-called conquering King who was to overthrow the Romans, seemed more interested in giving them a break from . . . their burdens?

As if to verify this suspicion, in Matthew 11:28–30, Jesus cuts to the chase:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

You can imagine the dead quiet as the Jews looked around in confusion.

Someone who will help us? Rules that are not unreasonable? A teacher who tells us to rest?

The Torah already specified plenty of rules, but the Pharisees had added to them until there was a nearly unbearable litany of requirements. And in Matthew 23, Jesus makes it pretty clear that they’re not too concerned with the effect their rules are having on people. In fact, they don’t seem to care about the people at all, and anyone who really started to think about what was happening might begin to ask some questions:

You’re telling me I can’t help someone on the sabbath? Isn’t helping someone a good thing? Doesn’t this seem like a lot of . . . rules?

But Jesus was way past the question-asking phase. As the Creator and Engineer of these people’s bodies and souls, and yes, “The One who is to come,” He didn’t need to analyze whether or not what the Pharisees were doing was “working.” He already knew what his people needed. And He knew the Pharisees—with their lists of “cans” and “cant’s”—were totally missing the point, that our God is a God who cares deeply about the people He created, not about a checklist of restrictions.

And King Jesus, the one would liberate the Jews, looked at the souls he’d come to save from eternal damnation, and saw that they were weary.

Heavy-laden. Bone tired. Exhausted to the core.

And He could not leave them there.

He had come to bring them rest—both eternal rest through salvation (Heb. 4:1–11), and rest from the burden of a Pharisee-run religion that cared nothing for the human person, offered no help, and showed no mercy for the weak.

King Jesus came bearing a yoke that is easy and burdens that are light. It is not because He brought a system that had no rules—after all, if you’ve read the guidelines He presented in the Sermon on the Mount, you know Jesus has plenty of expectations for the precious children He’s adopted. But, unlike the Pharisees and their unbending legislation, Jesus’ requirements came with something better than anything the Pharisees had to offer: Himself.

“I am gentle and lowly in heart.”

This King Jesus does not kick a man while he is down—He does not give a failing grade to the one who is trying—He does not break a bruised reed or snuff the spark from a smoldering wick (Matt. 12:20).

On the contrary, He helps those who are discouraged. Tired. Weary, heavy laden, and too exhausted to go on. He invites them to find relief. It turns out seeking rest is not wrong—in fact, perhaps there is something holy about it.

“Come to me,” Jesus says, and promises the thing each one of us, 2,000 years later, still craves: rest. And as He gives us rest, He does so much more.

He helps us. He sustains us. He guides us with compassion.

Handling life with spiritual maturity has many facets: living with abundant love, honoring God with our thoughts, investing our time and energy into a relationship with Him . . . the list goes on. But in the midst of this pursuit, don’t forget that the same King Jesus who preached the Sermon on the Mount with all its “blessed’s, be’s, and do’s” also holds out an easy yoke and a light burden. He invites us to step into it, and reminds us of the truth.

We’re not stepping into it alone.

When life feels like too much—whether it’s laundry and dishes, or another unanswered prayer, or a draining day spent listening to someone or helping them with their burdens—remember that Jesus hasn’t left you to toil by yourself.  Sometimes, it’s okay to stop. To pursue rest. To put your head down. To take a nap. To spend ten minutes in peace and quiet. To dwell in silence on the beauty, love, and compassion of a God who helps us.

A God who invited us to rest in Him.

I'm the Boss of My Sourdough

I actually cringe to see the last post date on annelieserider.com. How is it possible to sum up everything that has happened since May 2024—the growth, delight, grief—and every moment, big and small, that has shaped me?

I can’t. I won’t try. It’s barely even worth a status update, but if you’re still reading three sentences in, here it is.

Nuts and bolts:

• I have a few kids (which I thought meant more than two but Merriam-Webster actually tells me means a small number of units or individuals, which I suppose is accurate but it still means more than two to me and I’m the writer and it’s my word so as long as I define it to you I can use it how I want okay I’ll stop) and they are more precious to me than any other single or plural thing in my blessed, charmed existence

• Curtis is still very wonderful (it’s remarkable how consistently amazing he is, really)

• I recently became a bonafide chicken farmer (egg bound chicken, gave her a bath and rubbed her vent with oil and everything, don’t ask—but if you are asking, my best advice is, “Definitely don’t get chickens”)

I’m chipping away at the next novel (it’s not Finley Pike, I do have a name, it’s in the editing stage, and it’s slow progress but it’s still progress), recently repainted my kitchen and renovated a bathroom, and took up sourdough bread . . . again. Only this time, I’m the boss of my sourdough—not vice versa. My methods would probably make Real Sourdough people cry, but I’m getting some good bread out of it so we’ll just keep this between us.

I’ve also been making my own donuts, reading through cookbooks and learning new recipes to become a better cook, and praying intentionally that Jesus Christ would save two particular people in my life who I have no idea how He could—so obviously He can and I pray that He will.

Overall, life is still remarkably consistent with the 10-year-old bio on my homepage: I am Anneliese: author, wife, ma, blogger, biker. In all the world, nothing has taken hold of me like Jesus.

I will make no lofty promises about posting goals, but if I’m honest, I’m posting today because my dad started blogging again and he’s an inspiration to me (also I was jealous because I love freestyle writing and don’t do much of it these days), so as long as he’s doing it I’ll try to do it too.

And I’m intending to do it like my sourdough—not worrying about any of the things The Strategy People tell me to do. Just writing because I love to write.

Flying with the stomach flu

“Since this is so awful, everything after this will feel easy . . . Right?”

I recently took a plane trip alone with Graham and KyrahAnne. Wrestling a 2-year-old and an 11-month-old on an airplane is not, I discovered, for the faint of heart. We survived the trip down, complete with several absolute meltdowns on both flights, but I would soon find out it was nothing compared to the trip back.

At 1 a.m. on Monday morning, I woke up to the sound of Graham vomiting next to my head. Our flight home was scheduled for 11 a.m.

For the next 10 hours, Graham consistently threw up every 30 minutes. By the time we got to the airport, he was pale and unsteady. He laid on the floor anytime we stopped moving: in security, in the public airport bathroom, and at the gate. As soon as we got on the plane, he put his head on my lap and went to sleep.

The peace lasted for about half the flight—after that, Graham threw up about every 10 minutes until we arrived at our gate.

I walked through the airport, with my shirt and pants soaked in vomit, surrounded by the distinct aroma of stomach bile, wishing I didn’t have to make the 3-hour drive from the airport. My wish did not come true.

But somehow we made it home, and Graham recovered eventually from the stomach flu, and today it’s all just a happy memory. Well. It’s a memory.

Here’s the important part.

The guy sitting next to me was on the higher end of his 60s, and every time Graham threw up, I apologized profusely, to which he responded,

“Oh, it’s okay. Your kids are really good, and your son is a trooper.”

And every time, I started to cry. Because I was exhausted, and embarrassed, and filthy, and he acted like it was his privilege to sit next to us. He was unbelievably kind and gracious.

Be that guy.

For the Love of the Game

It’s a busy season right now—a combination of my two “sweet little tax deductions,” as one friend calls them, or Curtis (he’s very wonderful) being busier than usual, or work at the middle school, or the chickens . . . Mostly the chickens.

At any rate, even in the busy season, I’ve been writing quietly in the background, and the launch date for Finley Pike 4 is on the calendar (June sometime, I think).

In this hectic season, I’m reminded of an email one of my good friends sent me years ago. Over the years, it has stayed in my mind, and as I ease back into blogging, it’s a good re-entry point.

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For the Love of the Game—

Why does a writer continue to work on a story at night, at home, long past the end of the work day? The writer could have been finished already, submitting a competent news story and posting on the website before going home for an early dinner. Lead sentence, a few quotes, a wrap-up, and on to the next project.

For that matter, why do professional writers spend their whole day strapped to the conveyor belt, churning out copy—then return home, only to continue with their personal writing projects? 

When Michael Jordan signed his first basketball contract, he discovered that NBA owners had a toxic fear of basketball injuries. So their contracts prohibited skydiving, skiing, and other injury-prone activities—including pick-up basketball games and street ball. But Jordan wouldn’t tolerate this for a minute. He demanded (and got) a permission to play basketball anywhere and everywhere he wanted, a special contract rider under the heading “For the Love of the Game.”

After practice, driving home, he’d stop at random playgrounds and play for the fun of it.

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At the end of the day, the people who persist at their craft are the people who love it.

3 Ways to Validate a Real (or Fictional) Person

A little validation goes a long way, but sometimes it’s hard to know what to say. After all, we can only compliment someone’s hairstyle or their golf swing so many times.

 Next time you’re using validation (in real life or in fiction), try one of these approaches instead.

1. Ask an obvious question to let them answer it:
   “Are you on your walk?” This validates their experience.

2. State something about how they’re feeling:
   “You must be sad, I would be too.” This validates their emotions.

3. Affirm their actions:
   “That was a good idea.” This validates their decisions.

3 Ways to Encourage Imagination

School teaches a lot of practical life skills—how to do basic math, use critical thinking, and relate to peers and authority. In school, you learn what’s appropriate social engagement and how to measure the velocity with which a bowling ball will hit the ground if you drop it off the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Cool stuff, for sure.

A “functional” society revolves around the pragmatic skills that students learn in school, but a healthy society involves something not often taught in mass education: Imagination.

Merriam-Webster defines imagination as the act or power of forming a mental image of something not present to the senses, or never before wholly perceived in reality. In other words, imagination is the ability to see things that don’t exist.

It’s the tool that gives musicians the ability to create new music, artists the inspiration to try something different, and authors the dream of a story.

In a world of black and white, imagination is what washes things in color. It sparks joy and interest and engagement and thought. Imagination makes the mundane delightful—a stick becomes a horse, a paper becomes a ball, a child wearing a bedsheet becomes Superman.

Children are born with an innate sense of imagination, but over the years, it diminishes in most of us. The concrete concerns of adolescence and adulthood push imagination to the back seat, and eventually things like taxes and broken furnaces completely take over. For many, the color palette becomes grayscale.

Pretty grim, right?

The good news is, growing up doesn’t have to beat the imagination out of people. Here are three ways to encourage imagination in kids as they grow, so they stay imaginative as adults.

1. Never downplay their ideas. It doesn’t matter if you’re positive it won’t work—if a child or teenager suggests a solution to a problem, let them try it for themselves. Imagination is highly susceptible to peer pressure. If an adolescent’s idea gets mocked once, they’ll be much less likely to voice another idea.

2. Let them love to read. Be flexible about chore time—the garbage can wait an hour or two to go out. If your kid is reading under the covers with a flashlight, don’t make them go to sleep right away. When you read, your mind learns to fill in the blanks of “how I think that looks” or “what might happen next”—this strengthens the imagination muscle.

3. Give them “what if” scenarios. Imagination isn’t just for the artists and poets—it’s what sets a great leader apart from the rest, because they have the guts to attempt something that no one has done before (I have an idea . . .). Teaching children and teenagers to imagine different outcomes based on their decisions helps them think more creatively in every circumstance, even as adults.

Imagination makes life better—in a world of people staring at the ground, teach your kids to look for pictures in the clouds.

Be the Person Who Helps

“Surely, my kid is the only one in the world who does that. We are doomed.”

I can’t count how many times I’ve thought that in the last two years of being a parent (and I’ll be the first to acknowledge that two years isn’t very long).

Yesterday, Graham was having a hard day—he wouldn’t go to nursery, and threw at least half a dozen tantrums throughout the course of the morning. And then he spit directly into someone’s face.

How do you apologize for your kid spitting at another kid?

I was trying to manage my flustered frustration, while a veteran mother and grandmother rushed off and came back with a few tissues to clean up both kids. When she handed them to me, I asked her if it was normal: “Do other kids spit at people?” She nodded. “Of course. He’s two.”

Two things stood out to me about her reaction:

1. How quickly she acted. She could have just stood by and watched, but she didn’t—without asking, without wasting any time, she hurried to get tissues, so everyone could clean up with no hassle.

2. How graciously she responded. Veteran parents, correct me if I’m wrong—but the disconcerting thing about having children of any age is that you have some degree of perceived responsibility over another human being, but, thanks to free will, you don’t have control. I can influence and facilitate what my child does by teaching them the groundwork (manners, honesty, kindness, morals, and the like), but I’m not in their brain telling them what to do. At the end of the day, even two-year-olds make their own choices (i.e., spitting in their friend’s face).

   It’s really easy to feel hopeless and embarrassed when your toddler acts out, but the way people respond can completely change your feelings in that moment. She was gracious and understanding, and helped me to see that it was going to be okay.

   She responded with a lion’s share of kindness, and I will remember it for the rest of my life.

We all have the choice to be kind, both with our words and our actions—and we have no idea how what we do and say can influence people forever.

Today, be the person who helps.

4 Things I Learned about Potty Training

A few months ago, a friend told me Graham was ready to be potty trained. I put it off for a month or so, but on spring break I set a schedule and we tackled it. Here’s what I learned:

1. You set the tone
   This is an exciting development in your toddler’s life! If you’re excited, they’ll be excited too. If you’re angry, they’ll mirror that. If you sit next to the toilet and cry, potty training will seem like a bad thing to them. A little bit of cheerfulness goes a long way.

2. Be consistent
   For our first day of potty training, we went every 20 minutes. Yes, we went to the bathroom around 30 times that day. Yes, it was a lot of times. On the second day, we went every 25 minutes, and by the third day we were pushing 30 to 45 minutes. It seems like a lot, but remember—this is a new thing for a kid. For the past few years, they’ve been able to execute every bodily function completely on demand. The more consistent you can be with them, the sooner they’ll learn it.

3. Have a reward
   Peeing in the toilet is fun. Getting a mini M&M for it is even more fun. Whether it’s a small piece of candy or something else your child loves, reward their accomplishment! Positive reinforcement is a huge motivator.

4. Stay off the carpet for the first few days
   Your kid will have accidents. It happens. And it’s okay. Clean it up, move on, and be kind. They don’t like it any more than you do.

Remember. This is a person too—just a little smaller, a little more sticky, and a little more chaos driven than you are. You will both survive.

“Treat your child the way you’ll want to be treated when you’re old and they help YOU go to the potty.”

— Laura Booz, Expect Something Beautiful (Moody Publishers, 2021)

And, as I jokingly told a few people before we started, “I’m sure he’ll be fully potty trained by the time he’s 16.”

You can do this, mama.

The Good Days and the Hard Days

Yesterday morning, I was talking to the IT guy when I casually put my hand right into my cereal bowl—which was still full of milk.

Yesterday afternoon, the checkout person at the grocery story accused me of stealing because I put bags of items into my cart after scanning them but before paying for them. She probably thought the screaming toddler who wouldn’t sit still was a cover-up for a shoplifting scheme.

It’s amazing how the events of one day can cross the entire map of emotions, from hilarious to humiliating.

Devotional points:

• Never assume you’re putting your hand onto your coffee mug without checking to make sure it’s not a cereal bowl.

• Next time you see the mother of a toddler having a hard time at the grocery store, give her a kind word of encouragement or offer to pay for her groceries. Don’t just watch her in the produce aisle and laugh at her.

I was going to write “To the Discouraged” today, but ironically, I couldn’t think of much more to say than what the Little Blue Engine repeats all the way up the mountain:

“I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.”

But maybe, sometimes, that’s all those who are discouraged need to hear—with one small twist:

I think you can.

Thinking about People: To the One Who Doubts

In some ways, doubt is one of the best tools for growth—it can inspire investigation, research, and careful consideration. As such, doubt isn’t something to be afraid of, but something to embrace with careful guidance and intentional boundaries.

For the past 2000 years, people have been doubting Jesus Christ and His death on the cross for us. After all, how could a person be expected and willing to die for other people? And if God is so good that He’ll make such a big sacrifice, why do bad things still happen to “good people”?

Some questions we cannot answer, beyond trusting in God’s ultimate goodness and justice. But other questions, we have definite answers to. I wrote these rambling thoughts and truths lately for a friend who is working through doubts about grace, prayer, and depression.

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As Christians, each one of us is a forgiven sinner. If never sinning again was the result of being saved, there wouldn’t be any Christians. Our sin natures make sure of that.

BUT we have an advocate in Jesus—when Satan brings our sins before God the Father, maybe saying, “Look at the wrong thing she did,” Jesus Christ intercedes for us. He might say something like, “Yes, she did those things, but she is my child. I paid the price on the cross for the sins that she struggles with. She will not be held accountable for that.”

That is the beauty of salvation—we are saved by grace, not because of the good things we do, or the bad things we don’t do. Grace means that God has given us a gift in salvation, and once we accept it, we’re His children for eternity.

The Bible intentionally calls us children of God. What is meant to be the most steadfast, influential human relationship—a Father with his children—illustrates God’s relationship with us once we are born again. God as our Father does not—will not—ever abandon us. We belong permanently to Him.

Because of God’s unconditional love for us, we know with certainty that God wants to hear every prayer that we pray, no matter what it’s for. There is no such thing as a prayer that is too small or too insignificant for us to bring to God, even for something like depression.

For people who do not struggle with depression, it’s really hard to understand what a constant battle it is. But we know with certainty that God doesn’t cut off His children who struggle with depression, because there are so many people in the Bible who dealt with it—sometimes well, sometimes poorly—but God didn’t forsake them. Two of the major ones are Elijah, in 1 Kings 18 and 19, and David, all through the Psalms (Psalm 6, 10, 38, and 42 are just a few examples).

God considered Elijah such a righteous man that he raptured him (2 Kings 2:1, 11-12)—he didn’t die! And David is called a “man after God’s own heart” (Acts 13:22). And yet, they both still fought feelings of the deepest depression and hopelessness.

God doesn’t turn His back on us when we are struggling, even if it feels like it. He has promised to never leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5), even when we are in the middle of dark times.

I know that this doesn’t automatically fix everything, but it’s helpful for me to remember that as hopeless as I may feel, I am never truly alone.