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.

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.

Thinking about People: To the Recent Breakup

Breaking up is an occupational hazard of dating—sometimes, the return on investment is good, and you ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after (which includes dogs that poop on the carpet, after all, “happily” doesn’t mean “perfectly”). But sometimes, the work and effort you put into dating don’t pay out, and you’re left with a box of soggy tissues and an empty carton of ice cream and a lot of memories that make you cry.

Comforting a friend through a break up is an exercise in listening and compassion, more than anything else. There’s not usually much to say, unless you’re affirming that the guy went loco, or he wasn’t worth it anyways.

Curtis (he’s very wonderful) has a better knack at knowing the things to say than I do—and since good artists copy, but great artists steal (thank you Adams, Eliot, Joad, Stravinsky, Faulkner, Picasso, and apparently a handful of others), today I’m sharing his words:

“There are a few people in life who I consider to be truly special. Not always are they close friends to me, but sometimes they are. But it’s a small list of people I truly consider to be living a special and abnormally good life.

You are one of those people. You are very special. You deserve the utmost quality, importance, love, respect, and devotion from anyone who might consider being romantically involved with you. You deserve someone who will support your every passion, encourage beauty in an already beautiful life, and build more special on an already special soul.

He was trying to change you, block you from your dreams and aspirations, and shape you into an average mold when you already are a special person.

I’m not sure there is anything I can say to help the pain that always comes from the hurt that strained relationships bring. And I know this is cliché of me to say, but you deserve a much better man than him. He was immature and insecure in the way he handled himself with you.

When you find the right person, he’s going to love you, respect you, be proud of you, treat you like a queen, and encourage you in every small or big thing that even remotely excites you.

Because the right person will know what the rest of us know: you don’t try to change a special person, you support and love them.

Thinking about People: To the New Mom

I wrote this as a short devo for a baby shower a few weeks ago:

After bringing a baby home from the hospital, it doesn’t take long to realize you had no idea what you were in for. I have to feed this child how often? How many diapers every day!? I have to monitor the color of his poop??? And the ongoing marital discussion for the first few months: “How about you see if you can get him to stop crying?”

Children are absolutely a gift from God, but that doesn’t mean that raising them isn’t going to be one of the hardest things that you’ve ever done. So, on the good days, and the hard days, here are two things to remember:

1)    There is always more grace for you.

Isaiah 40:11 says, “He will tend His flock like a shepherd, he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.”

Maybe it’s not this way for everyone, but for me, having a baby was a major crash course in, “Wow. I have no idea what I’m doing.” That’s unsettling. So, when you feel clueless and tired, and you don’t know what to do, remember: You can be gentle to yourself, because God is gently leading you. It’s okay if you don’t always have the answers.

The second thing I want to remind you of is this:

2)    You are exactly the mother that your baby needs.

There’s no better way to see your own shortcomings then when you haven’t washed your hair in a week, your shirt smells like spit up, the dog just peed on the floor, the baby is crying, and the doorbell rings. It’s your perfectly dressed neighbor and her three sparkling clean children, delivering a four-course meal.

I’m sure nobody can relate to this.

Graham isn’t yet two years old, so maybe someone who has successfully raised children to adulthood may deny or confirm this, but I don’t *think* I’m alone when I say that self-doubt is a very familiar feeling in parenting. Whether it’s over discipline, or scheduling, or not letting your kid do something they do want to do, or making them do something they don’t want to do, or losing your patience when it feels like everything is falling apart, the first thought that often comes to mind is, “I wonder if I’m doing the right thing” or, sometimes, “I definitely did the wrong thing.”

But. When Got put this baby in your family, He knew exactly what kind, loving parents this boy would have. He knows everything about you and the kind of mother that you are, and he knew that was exactly what this baby needs.

So, even on the worst days, always remember: Be gentle to yourself, because God is gentle to you—and God gave this baby to you because you are the exact mother he needs.

Thinking about People

Every phase of life has a focus.

In college, I thought about passing classes and paying for school. This blog was stagnant.

During my first full-time job, I spent a hefty chunk of every day writing introspective blog posts. In my second full-time job, I honed the skills of writing and editing, and observed great leadership—less time doing introspective blog writing, more time learning the nuts and bolts of marketing copy and manipulating conversions.

Then we moved to northern Michigan, and I entered my third full-time job. I didn’t do much writing in general those days.

I took a brief interlude for full-time freelancing, which was also when I found out isolation on 12 acres day after day is not in my skill set.

Got my fourth job, and started writing middle grade fiction. Blogging is sporadic, but I’m pushing out the third book in the middle grade fiction series.

We also had a baby in there, and acquired some pets.

Mini-resume aside, the focus of this phase of life has been more on people than on introspective blog posts. And that’s okay, because life is full of seasons and people are always worth investing in.

For my next few posts, I’ll be doing a mini-series on the different people I’ve been focusing on lately—which will hopefully kickstart more regular posts from this corner of the internet. No promises. But we’ll do our best.

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And in case you only read this far because you were hoping for a picture . . .

In this episode of Things You Didn’t Anticipate Hearing Yourself Say: “Please stop eating your cereal from between your toes.”

But it serves no purpose

I got my ears pierced when I was eight years old. It was a rite of passage in our family.

At first I only wore studs, but when I got to high school I started wearing big earrings. I think they’re fun and interesting to look at—and I like how they knock at my neck when I move my head. A few years ago, I bought myself a cheap pair of gold hoops with gray tassels hanging off of them.

Unfortunately, they hung so low that if I wore something with a big collar, they would catch on it and fall out. Usually I’d notice and find the missing earring before it was too late, but a few weeks ago I lost one for good. I put the single earring on my desk.

Today, fifteen seconds after throwing it away, I fished it out of the trash can and put it back.

But I couldn’t really tell you why.

I work hard to keep my house spare and neat. It helps me feel less stressed if my surfaces are clean (besides the refrigerator, inside and out. That’s a losing battle). Random junk usually gets relegated to the trash can or to Goodwill, and almost everything serves a purpose, whether it’s purely aesthetic or intentionally functional.

But this earring does nothing for me.

It doesn’t make me think, or cause me to worry, or spark joy or interest. It just is, and that’s the beauty of it.

I don’t have to think about it, or use it, or worry if it disappears. It is useless.

This doesn’t mean that I’m going to start filling my house with useless things, but I am growing to realize that sometimes it’s okay—for me and for others and even for my items—to just be.

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The sole survivor

Mental Pool Table

For our date last weekend, we played pool and went to the grocery store—fancy, I know.

The pool table that we play on has seen better days. It primarily serves as a snack table for teenagers, which is obvious to anyone who sees the spill stains, crumbs, and threadbare felt. One leg, missing the small rubber foot that keeps the table level, used to be propped up with a sideways piece of copper pipe (key words: Used to).

But we’re not pool sharks, so the ratty old table isn’t a problem. We don’t play for keeps.

As soon as Curtis (he’s very wonderful) broke the rack on Saturday night, every single ball rolled to the right. We didn’t immediately investigate, but after a few turns of balls constantly rolling only to the right side of the table or into the pockets when they should have stopped inches sooner, it was obvious something was wrong. A thorough evaluation revealed that the copper pipe that used to hold up one of the legs was gone. One corner was a good half-inch lower than the other three, hence, the rolling balls.

Since we’d already sunk most of the balls, we decided to finish the game—but before we played again, we jammed a few rubber disks under the low leg to level the table and save us from all the unfair rolling.

The first game didn’t count, and the second game was a draw. Better luck to one of us next time (me, obviously).

*Here is where I want to put a sentence that connects the physical activity of playing pool to the conceptual analogy of a mental pool table. Unfortunately, no such sentence is coming to mind, so this disclaimer-y explanation will have to do.*

Every one of us plays a perpetual game of pool in our minds.

The table is our worldview, how we solve problems, and the story we tell ourselves about our circumstances.

The balls are our circumstances.

At our mental pool tables, just like in the real-life game of pool, we size up scenarios, form perceptions, and make decisions. We choose what seems best and make shots accordingly.

Sometimes, we make the right choice and sink a ball. Other times, we make the wrong choice and the ball goes skidding across the table, just to bounce into another cushion and eventually roll to a dead stop. Bummer. Better luck next time. Learn from experience.

When your pool table is level, clean, and well cared for, it’s easy to maintain a rational perspective on life and the things that happen to you, for instance:

“I got a flat tire on the way home from work—but I have a well-paying job, a warm house, a family that loves me, good friends, and two dogs that are my best, best buds.”

BUT. When your pool table is unbalanced, hitting one ball into several others often causes all of them to start rolling. This translates to even small obstacles becoming big problems:

“I got a flat tire on the way home from work—and I’ll probably be late for dinner and the food will be cold and I’ll fight about it with my spouse and she’ll make me clean up the dog vomit because she’ll be mad at me for being late. And on top of that, my boss gave me a funny look today and I’m pretty sure he’s going to fire me tomorrow and this is all just too much for me and I think I’ll quit and run away to live in a cardboard box on Lower Wacker because I am ALONE IN THE WORLD and EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE.”

Obviously, this is extreme, but you get the picture. We all react to things based on how we see them—and depending on what condition our mental pool table is in, we have rational or irrational reactions.

When you’re struggling with something and you can’t find a solution, stop looking at the balls (your situation) and study the table (your perspective). Maybe it’s slanted.

It’s always worth re-assessing your perceptions and your problem solving habits before addressing a problem.

I haven’t yet felt a cue for a witty caption—I’m chalking it up to eight solid days of gray skies.

Enter 2022

On this episode of Domestic Delight:

• I learn that refinishing a table in the kitchen is not a good idea. In Curtis’ words (he’s very wonderful), “How is it possible that there’s sanding dust even in the back room?”

• Chicago (puppy, not city) has accidents on the floor once a week—better than 3x vomit in one day? I’m not sure on this one. I might chose vomit that I can avoid over urine that I accidentally step in.

• Graham learns how to stand up, and falls over. And stands up, and falls over, stands up, falls over. Babies are a beautiful example of the resilience of the human spirit. I wrote about this a while ago. It’s one of my favorite things to talk about.

• I lose the baby monitor. Hoping I find it when I find my mind . . . Which means the monitor might be a lost cause.

• We watch the Rocky movies for Friday night pizza/movie the past few weeks. Actual transcript from the Rider Household:
  Anneliese: ”Is this just going to be another movie where he trains the whole movie and then fights Apollo Creed at the end?”
  Curtis: “I mean . . . They are boxing movies. Isn’t that the point?”
  Anneliese: “Oh . . .”

• I get an espresso machine. I will be the first to say I’m not an expert, but I can pull a tolerable shot—andsonowI’mconstantlyovercaffeinatedandmybreathalwayssmellslikecoffeeandI’mamasteratcreatingbloblatteartandeverytimeI’mhomewithCurtisIsay”Doyouwantafancydrink”andofcoursehesaysyesbecauseheisaprinceamongmenandthenwedrinklattesandI’mthefanciesthingeverandmaybesomedayI’llhaveagiganticcaffeinecrashandheadachebutfornowIamastarringonmyownTVshow: Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

• Curtis coaches girl’s middle school basketball, and most days I hear the chorus, “Mrs. Rider, Mrs. Rider, we saw your husband yesterday!” It’s pretty fun. :)

• I learn what the interrobang is. Do YOU know what the interrobang is‽

It’s a new year, and it’s time for New Year’s Resolutions—which, for me, typically prove completely ineffective and become an object of shame by the middle of March. That doesn’t mean I don’t usually make them, but in the past I’ve only ever written them on a scrap of napkin that I inevitably lose before the middle of March (probably why the resolutions fail . . . If you can’t remember something, how can you make sure to do it? Refer to the “Baby monitor” entry above).

SO. This year, I have a few resolutions—very few—and in an effort to remember them/achieve them, I’ll tell you what they are. That way, if I succeed, we can celebrate together. And if I fail, I’ll have some public shame to keep me humble.

Resolve: 2022

• Read through the whole Bible. I did this for many years in a row, but for the past few I fell off the bandwagon. I regret that, so I’m starting in on the habit again.

• Publish the next two Finley Pike books (#2 and #3). Book 2 is already in the editing stage of the Editorial Process, and has a soft drop date of late February. Book 3 is currently just a lot of random notes and ideas.

Those are my two main goals. I have a lot more soft goals, but they’re more about developing habits, and I don’t feel the need to tell you what they are. (Do you really want to know how often I plan to clip my nails?) (Just kidding.) (Now you’re not sure if I’m serious or not, right?)

But I have one big conceptual goal that I’m going to work on, in addition to the nuts and bolts goals

In 2022, I want to practice recognizing the difference between urgent and important.

I learned this distinction from a good friend in high school. In a world of urgent, it’s easy to move the important to the back burner, but it’s often not the right choice. Urgency is necessary where safety and injury are involved—”Put on the brake before you drive the car over the cliff”—but in our culture, it’s a much more popular approach to things that aren’t urgent at all: “Check your social media before you get out of bed in the morning, to see what’s happening in the world.”

Learning to distinguish between the two isn’t popular, but practicing discernment between them leads to becoming the intentional, thoughtful person that I want to be.

So this year, I’m remembering that the loudest voices calling for my attention don’t always need it at that exact moment (besides Graham, I do pay attention to him when he yells).

There it is. Anneliese Rider’s 2022 goals.

Check back next year for completion percentage—with sovereign guidance, lots of caffeine, and deep rings under my eyes, we’ll hit 100%. With or without sanity.

New year, same menfolk.
Alternate caption: Which came first, the sweater or the couch?

Sitting in the Parking Lot

I go places with Curtis (he’s very wonderful) just so we can have the car ride together—then, when we arrive and he has responsibilities or chores, I sit in the car and read or write.

Last night, I sat in our Jeep and wrote, talked on the phone, and watched the sun set. When people see you sitting in the car with the windows open in a nearly empty parking lot, they all have the same response: they stare. Something about being in the car makes people assume maybe you can’t see them watching you.

Sometimes, I stared back. Sometimes, I pretended not to look.

Social interaction code is interesting. You can look at people, but only if they don’t realize it. If they do realize it, you have to look away quickly or pretend to be looking at something else. Somewhere along the way it became rude to look at people, even though at their core, all people really want is to be seen.