Ann Farabee

By Ann Farabee

For many, going to a Christmas play is a holiday tradition that helps us visualize the story of the birth of Jesus, so we can hold it more tightly in our hearts.

As a young teenager, I participated in a Christmas play at church. As an angel, my role was to stand near baby Jesus and hold my arms up in praise — like angels are supposed to do. The lights were off and the sanctuary was totally dark, but a light shone brightly over the manger scene where I stood. That moment is one of the few memories I still have of Christmas plays — and is also a powerful one.

My heart was touched and tears filled my eyes, although at the time, I was not sure why. I am sure words had been spoken, but I do not remember hearing them. I do, however, remember feeling them. That night’s spiritual connection had a lifelong impact. As an “angel” I had been allowed to stand in the only place there was light in the room. I was standing in the light with the light of the world, and everything around me seemed to be in darkness.

I realized that the manger would have been a much darker place as baby Jesus was born than it was portrayed that night. The shepherds would not be as neatly dressed. The sheep would not be pure white — but grayish and dirty. The other animals milling around in the stable surely would have been unsettling.

After I got home from the play, I remember standing in my front yard and looking up at the stars in the sky. That’s when I knew. I believed in Jesus. And maybe the star that was shining down on my life that night was the same star that was shining down on the manger the night Jesus was born.

Look up. The light of the world is with us.

Jesus is the light of the world — and we are his light in the world.

John 1:5 says the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

I don’t know about you, but something about that verse gives me heavenly peace.

Gazing up at those stars became something I did often and I still do, for if the bottom of heaven is that beautiful, how much more beautiful will heaven be?

Lord, may we know that the story of the birth of Jesus is not just a story — but is his-story.  Help us see the light of the world and hold tightly in our hearts. Amen

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at  annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.

By Ann Farabee

At my home, we have an abundance of Legos. Christmas means more Legos are coming — if there are some available we do not own yet.

Here is a sample of what we have displayed in our Lego closet. Yes, I said sample. And yes, I said Lego closet.

Taj Mahal: 22,000 laborers worked on building this tomb for the king’s wife. It has 28 different types of jewels.

Roller Coaster: It has twists, turns, mountains, deep valleys, steep climbs, and parts that are smooth — just like life does.

Ferris Wheel: George Ferris wanted to build something better than the Eiffel Tower, so he said, “Make no little plans!”

Empire State Building: 102-floor skyscraper in New York City. It has its own zip code and it lights up at night.

Parisian Restaurant, Bank, Detective’s Office: These are places we go as part of a community. Well, we do not go to the detective’s office that often.

Statue of Liberty: It is a sculpture on Liberty Island in the New York Harbor that was dedicated in 1886.

US Capitol Building: It houses the legislative branches of the federal government. It is where the street numbers start in Washington, D.C. It is used for Sunday church services. Moses, who received the 10 Commandments from God, has a marble relief portrait over the gallery doors.

Ship in a Bottle: 18th century monks in monasteries were the first to build a ship in a bottle.

Great Wall of China: This wall kept out the enemy and was a symbol of strength.

International Space Station: It is a modular space station in low orbit earth. It goes 17,100 mph. It has been visited by more than 200 astronauts or space tourists from 20 different nations.

I have just shown you 26,485 Lego blocks.

What if I took the structures all apart and put them in a big pile? Can you imagine that?

Each Lego block was added one piece at a time. Each Lego structure has a foundation and a framework. That means it has support.

If we were looking at our pile of Legos, we would not think of any of them being real superstar pieces. None of them would be as special individually as they would be when they are together in the place they were meant to be.

It reminds me of how each of us are important and each of us have a role in life that God has just for us to fulfill.

1 Corinthians 3:9-10 says that by God’s grace, we are wise, master builders. We are building our lives and we should build them carefully — by doing the right thing, making the right choices, and allowing Jesus to be the foundation of it all.

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at  annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.

By Ann Farabee

It was early in my COVID journey. Our family was quarantined. We did not ask for help. But others listened to their hearts, as God placed it in their spirit to help us. They began to emerge in our emergency.

The doorbell rang. Food had been delivered to feed our family of five. The next day the doorbell rang again — food had been delivered. And the next day. It continued for two weeks.

They were my friends, family, church members, coworkers, and sometimes people I barely knew. They had been sending thoughts and prayers our way daily, but decided to physically show up to our door to make sure we had what we needed. The doorbell would ring — and home-cooked food, take out meals, and groceries were waiting for us there — on our porch.

It was a time that I truly experienced the concept of someone being the hands and feet of Jesus, for that is exactly what these doorbell ringers were.

Emerge can mean to come into view. Although they would ring the doorbell and get back in their car, they had chosen to emerge to bless our family at our front door during our time of emergency.

I really did not understand it. I could not explain it. Why would they make that sacrifice of time and money for us? It felt surreal. It felt as if God were right there with us each time the doorbell rang, so that we could know that his presence was not just with us in our home, but surrounding us by those outside our home.

My 13-year-old put it in perspective one day as he said, “It used to be that anytime someone came down our street, we knew they were not coming to our house. Now every car that comes down our street is coming to our house.”

Those words helped me to picture it vividly, for I was still isolated in my room. I only heard the ring of the doorbell daily. I never really saw the people, but I knew they had been sent by the father. It was a beautiful thing for my family to witness.

I have done the same for others at times, but not as often as I should have. Until it was done for me, I am not sure I realized the power of compassion. I am not sure I realized the power of love in action. I am not sure I realized the power of food — or an offer of help, or a flower, or a card, or a prayer, or a phone call, or a message, or the knowledge that anyone I know would have gladly emerged in my emergency to be a help to our family.

Friendships sure do matter. True friends can go for extended lengths of time without talking to or physically seeing one another. But in case of an emergency, you sure can count on them to emerge.

What better way than to emerge with food, right? (I am just kidding. Or am I?) That sure was how we felt every time the doorbell rang.

Love in action.

The hands and feet of Jesus.

Serve him. Serve others.

Ring the doorbell.

Lord, when someone needs us, help us to not just be their friend on social media, in the workplace, in the church, or even at the ballgame, but help us be a friend that will emerge in a time of emergency, bringing help and hope to those around us. May we remember to ring the doorbell. Amen.

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at  annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com .

By Ann Farabee

That word — COVID — still feels like it belongs to someone else — not me.

My writing often is built around the retelling of my personal experiences, but this one….

This one felt different.
This one felt a little too painful.
This one left me feeling like the story would go on forever.

I tried to get control of it and just let it pass. But I knew. It was COVID and it seemed to be doing exactly what it wanted to do when it wanted to do it.

This has been one of the weakest and most vulnerable times of my life — of our lives. Not only was it me that had been sick, but also my husband and my son. God had allowed both of them to recover much more quickly than me, but the lingering symptoms, the quarantine, and my continued sickness — was tough.

Friends and family kept messaging me, “Are you going to write about it?”

My answer was always the same, “No.”
It was too personal.
Most days the description was something to the effect of, “I am sick. I am still sick.”

Not much of a story.

Truth was — I did not want to write about it. Ever. I felt that nothing could come out of this evil virus that would even remotely be something that could give spiritual inspiration to others. I wanted to forget it.

An enemy had attacked our bodies.
I had not been sure we would win this battle.
I had not been sure if we would be around to raise our grandsons to adulthood.
It was scary for our family.

But on this day — day 20 of the virus — I woke up early. I got out of bed, without even giving it a thought.

Everyone was still asleep. I walked downstairs, opened the blinds, took a deep breath and looked outside.

That girl that runs by my house every morning was running by on day 20 at the exact time I opened my blinds.

It made me smile. I wanted to call out to her, “Good morning! I made it! I think I’m going to live! I can keep watching you run by every morning as I drink my coffee! It’s so good to see you!”

We had waved occasionally, but no, I do not know her.
But — on this day — Day 20 — I did know her. I sure was excited to see her.

So maybe everything was normal?
Except my normal no longer felt normal — until I saw her.
Reassurance came.
The girl was still running. Life had been going on. It still was. It was beautiful.
I cried — for it had been a long 20 days.
Perhaps my normal would return one day.

That’s when I knew — I wanted to share my COVID story with you.
For you — are special to me.

I hope my story gave you hope.
I hope my story encouraged you.
I hope if you are sick that you will be made well.
I hope my normal will return to normal.
I hope that I will always love and appreciate normal.

Isaiah 40:31 says that those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
That is the promise I held on to.

No, COVID could not and did not control me.
For there is always hope — and hope controls me.

Contact me at annfarabee@gmail.com .