Sanna Anderson Baker taught children's literature, creative writing, and poetry at Wheaton College. She authored four children's books as well as numerous poems.
My mom once asked me to throw this book away. And I refused to do that and I will always refuse to do so.
Why? Because this book has been a part of my life in a wallflower kind of way. It's always in my bookshelf.
I can say that we are of the same age because it was given to my mother before I was able to understand the words written on its pages. And that is why it is very special to me.
It reminds me of the rainy days when I used to browse its pages, looking at those shades of blue, green and orange. Back in the day that kind of art is too simple for a kid, but there is something so calm about it that I really like. Now that I am obviously not a kid anymore and is now a Graphic Designer, I can say that this art is so minimal that it doesn't even look like it was done years ago.
Most of all, the poetry is so subtle and beautiful.
First: I went to elementary school with the daughter of author Sanna Anderson Baker. She came to our classrooms several times to lead poetry workshops. I remember writing about snow and the color grey. Looking back now, I might credit those experiences with growing in me a sense that my perspective was something worth expressing. I've observed my son constructing metaphors and similes when his young vocabulary fails him since he was quite tiny. I tell him he could be a poet when he grows up, and I hope for someone like Mrs. Baker to show up in his life.
Second: We went on a family trip to Ecuador last June, and my father-in-law shared a passage from Job to be his meditation for the trip. It is the same passage on which Who's a Friend of the Water Spurting Whale is based, so we brought the book along. On the trip, we traveled from island to island in a tiny boat atop cold and giant waves, sometimes so far out to sea that we couldn't see the island we had left behind nor the destination. While my kids (ha, and I) fought seasickness (and lost), I wondered what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks we were doing there, and internally I cried out my confession to God that I should never have set my kids up for such misery let alone potential shipwreck or shark attack or something. (It sounds dramatic now, but I promise you, it was quite the come to Jesus moment for me.) I affirmed God's promise to care for us even through our fallible judgement, chanting "God is great and God is good" in my head over and over again as we sped over the home of the water spurting whale. Parenting folly aside, it was a formative bedtime ritual to read Who's a Friend of the Water Spurting Whale--the words of wonder at God's creative power and care--at the close of days in which one felt both fragile and carefully protected.