Herman Melville opens the novel, Moby Dick, with three famous words: Call me Ishmael. I’ll use four:
Call me Constance Ann.
It’s the name my parents gave me, but rarely used. I’m “Connie” to husband and friends, “Mom” to three grown children, and “Grandma” to two.
I’m a homemaker, occasional helper on our farm (corn, soybeans, and hay—no sunflowers), and former church secretary. For many years I nurtured kids and a large garden. I cooked, I sewed, I wrote. I did not conquer—there are no degrees or awards framed on my walls.
I am setting sail, again, on the seas of the written word on this minnow of a ship (this blog). I am on a quest: not a revenge-soaked mission of pursuing a white whale, but seeking to see God’s character displayed in the world around us and in our everyday lives. Ahab hunted the white whale, convinced of its malevolence, but I’m searching for glimpses of God, convinced of His benevolence. Some Native American tribes believed that to sight a white bison is to discover something sacred or spiritually significant. I have already found the sacred: God’s Son, Jesus, sent to save us from our sins. The name “Jesus” is the Greek form of “Joshua,” which means “the Lord saves.”
My names (Constance, from Latin, meaning “constancy” and Ann, from the Hebrew word for “grace”) are names that speak little about my character, but a great deal about the nature of the One who made me, knows me, and still loves me. God is constant and full of grace.
Join me on a voyage to discover the “spiritually significant,” (perhaps a great, white sunflower?) and we will constantly find examples of God’s grace.
It’s a good name. Call me Constance Ann.