by Jennifer Greene-Sullivan
Aging English Major
I will say something today that most authors do not like to admit out loud. Some books FAIL to reach readers like we plan even the good books. This has been true with my last release, and sometimes, I am saddened that The First Grade Chatterbox has not reached as many readers as I thought it would.
It is such a well-written book. Joshua’s illustrations are some of the most expressive and joyful we have ever created together. In so many ways, I have quietly considered it my best work to date, yet the numbers have not reflected what I believed the book would become.
So, without meaning to, I have done what many writers do when something does not grow as quickly as they hoped — I have grown quiet about it. I have not stopped loving Chatterbox. I have just stopped talking about it. I told myself I was focusing on other projects, and I would be obedient to the new assignments the Lord has placed before me. However, if I am honest, there has been a small grief in my heart where The First Grade Chatterbox lives.
I never wanted to give up on that book, but I had begun to loosen my grip on its promotion and its place in my daily conversation.
Then, Sunday night happened.
Liam and I were at AWANA at church, getting ready for our T&T whole group session. The room was full of the beautiful, holy chaos that always comes with children gathering to learn the Word of God. My small group girls were talking and laughing beside me with their joy filling the space.
Then whole group began, and the room grew quiet. One of my most challenging — and most beloved — little girls slowly unzipped her AWANA bag. Inside were the usual things: her Bible, her pen, her lesson book. But she kept reaching. I watched with curious wonder. Then, I saw it.
She pulled out a copy of The First Grade Chatterbox.
My book.
She didn’t look around to see if anyone noticed. She didn’t make an announcement.
She simply began to read. Page by page, she gave it her full attention, and in the back of a room where we were about to worship and study the Word, she sat quietly and read the story.
When she finished, she ran her hand gently across the cover — the way children do when something matters to them — and carefully placed it back into her bag. And I just sat there–in awe.
No sales report could have given me what that moment gave me.
No marketing plan could have produced that kind of fruit.
Right there, in the middle of discipleship, one of my students chose to read the story the Lord allowed me to write for children.
Silently.
Tenderly.
Personally.
What I had started to believe was slipping away was actually living in the exact place God intended — in the hands of a child.
The Lord did not let me miss it. He let me see it because He knew I needed to be reminded: these books were never assignments in numbers. They were assignments in obedience. The First Grade Chatterbox is not forgotten.
It is being carried in an AWANA bag. It is being read in quiet moments. It is being loved by the very children I envisioned reading it.
The love of a child is the measure that matters in the Kingdom.
“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9 (ESV)
So I am not letting it slip away. I am picking it back up with joy — not because of what it might sell, but because of what it is already doing. Thank You, Jesus, for letting me see the fruit. Sometimes God lets you watch the seed you thought was buried become a living testimony right in front of you.
A Prayer of Surrender
Lord Jesus, forgive me for measuring what You have called fruitful by numbers instead of obedience. This book has always belonged to You. Every story, every page, every child who turns those pages — they are Yours. Teach me to sow faithfully and to trust You with the harvest. Renew my joy in the work You have given me to do, and let me never grow weary in doing the good You have placed in my hands. Thank You for letting me see a glimpse of the fruit. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
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The Aging English Major 