by Roseanna White | Sep 15, 2014 | Word of the Week
We all know what level means, right? It’s to be even, going neither up nor down. It’s the state of being so, like the levels of a house. It’s the tool that guarantees it. And all the idioms containing it arise from those. Sure.
But I was quite surprised to learn that the tool is the chronologically first meaning! The English word for such a tool dates from the mid-1300s, taken from the French livel, which comes in turn from the Latin libella — “scale, balance, unit of weight.” The meaning of “horizontally” followed in about 1400, and the line indicated by such a measure in 1530. The phrase on the level originally didn’t mean “honest and fair”–it meant “moderate, without great ambition.” I had no clue about that one!
The adjective, which I would have assumed to be the oldest definition, didn’t in face come along until the early 15th century. Which, granted, is still stinkin’ old, LOL. But it’s still at least 50 years after the noun, possibly as many as a hundred. The verb followed within another half-century.
Most of the familiar idioms still in use today (level off, level with me…) date from the 1920s. Level off is, not surprisingly, from aviation.
by Roseanna White | Sep 11, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Last week, my family had the joy of vacationing in Hatteras, on the southern tip of the Outer Banks of North Carolina, as far south as one can go before needing a ferry to continue. We basked in the sun. We played in the waves. We relaxed.
And we collected seashells.
The kids had been looking forward to that part for weeks. When family asked them what they wanted to do on vacation, their answers were: (1) play mini-golf, (2) get Sweet Frog frozen yogurt, and (3) collect seashells.
One small catch–the beach by our house had virtually no shells. For the first few days, they collected about 5. And at least two of those came from the strip of rocks and shells beside our condo rather than the beach, LOL. On Wednesday night, a few had washed to shore, and as we were out hunting ghost crabs, the kids grabbed up all the shells they could find. Very few were what I would deem keepable, but they were the only ones we’d seen, so…
Then on Thursday, we got an off-road driving permit and took the Jeep out onto Buxton point, behind the Hatteras lighthouse. This sandy peninsula was populated by other 4x4s, surrounded by blue-green water…and littered with big, beautiful shells. Eureka!
Now, I’ve been collecting shells for a lot of years…but always had limited space for bringing them home. So I had to come up with criteria for what I kept and what I left. For me it usually comes down to color and shape. I’m a sucker for pinks and purples. And for whole, unbroken shells. I like the kinds that have swirling patterns. And the ultimate find, of course, is a conch.
My kids though…they would pick up the ugliest, weirdest looking things! Ones I would have tossed back in a heartbeat they clung to with fierce determination.
The broken ones. (But Mommy, look at the cool pattern it makes along the break!)
The common ones. (I can use it as a shovel!)
The ugly ones. (But look, it has fossils in it!)
The ones just like the other twenty they already kept. (Oh cool, now it’s a collection!)
At first I tried to reason with them, to impose my logic. (Ha! LOL) And on some, we had no disagreement, like the perfect little conch we found on Friday, our second day at the point. Or the ones with holes that Xoe can turn into necklaces.
But those others…
As I walked the sand, as I kept my eye out for what I deemed the perfect shell, I stopped arguing with the kids. Let them pick whatever they wanted right then–but we’d have to sort through them before we left. No way could we take all those buckets- and bags-full home! There wasn’t room in our Jeep.
And yet, as I walked the sand, I knew I wouldn’t have the heart to take away the shells they loved, just because I didn’t see the beauty in them. In fact, the more I saw the mangled shells they chose, the more I loved those kids.
Because they see beauty where I saw scars.
They see purpose where I see brokenness.
They see what it looked like whole where I see the jagged edge left behind.
They see potential where I see hopelessness.
They marvel at the size where I screw up my nose at the color.
They are so, so much closer to looking at things through God’s eyes than I am.
Because let’s face it–we’re not the pretty, perfect seashells. We’re the broken ones. The scarred ones. The mangled ones. The shattered ones. The ugly ones. We’re the ones discerning eyes would pass over. We’re the ones perfection has long ago left behind.
And God loves us. Not despite our flaws, but because each crack, each track of worm-eating, each place where the sand has rubbed us raw…those are part of us. Part of what makes us who we are. Part of what God loves. He can see the whole, unbroken creation we are in potential…but he can also see the way he can use us in our brokenness. Because of our brokenness.
Yes, we came home with buckets and bags of seashells. And to be honest, I still shake my head at some of them.
But I’m glad. I’m so glad my kids picked up the ones I never would have. Because it proves that their eyes, their hearts, their imaginations go far beyond what I can see. And I thank the Lord that he’s given them a bit of his vision. Because if they can find the beauty in this…
…then I know they also see the beauty in us. Just like our Father.
by Roseanna White | Sep 8, 2014 | Word of the Week
In case you haven’t heard yet, Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland is on sale until September 15! All digital versions are only $0.99, which is a waaaaaaaay lower price than it’s usual $8+. If you were waiting for the right time to get this one, it’s here. =)
Amazon |
Barnes and Noble |
ChristianBook.com |
iTunes
But as I was promoting the start of the sale while on vacation last week, I realized that I honestly couldn’t even remember parts of this book, LOL. I hadn’t read it since a few months before its release in fall of 2011, so I though, “Hey, I’m on vacation–I’m not working on anything else. Why not?” So I sat down and became reacquainted with Lark and Emerson and Wiley, with Edwinn and Sena and Kate and Alice.
And I also remembered one of my fun word finds. I mentioned it in a Remember When Wednesday post way back in January 2011, but I thought it deserved its own Word of the Week.
It started from wanting to describe a passel of boys on Christmas as rambunctious. The problem being that rambunctious wasn’t created until 1859–and this book is set in 1783. But etymonline.com helpfully pointed out that rambunctious was a later form of rumbunctious… though even that was from 1830. Still no help for me!
But!
Rumbunctious is in turn a variation on a word from 1778–
rumbustious. Etymologists don’t seem entirely certain of the origins on this word, but they suggest that it’s a combination of “rum +
boisterous,
robustious,
bumptious.” And it worked for me! I figured it was close enough to rambunctious that no one would wonder at its meaning, but it also gave a certain something to the tone. =)
Of course, vacation is now over, and it’s back to the grind of school and editing for me and mine. But no fears–I’ve got some beach-inspired musings planned for later this week. 😉
by Roseanna White | Sep 1, 2014 | Uncategorized
Okay, so I’m not technically at the lighthouse right this moment. Unless you happen to be reading this when we, in fact, are. But you wouldn’t know that. And neither would I…
The point being, I’m on vacation! Woot! Much-needed and much-anticipated. So no blogging this week. I’m too busy getting sunburnt (yes, I’m wearing sunblock. But I’m still getting burnt, because apparently I only have to think about sunshine to get burnt…), building sandcastles, and reading.
See you back here next week!
by Roseanna White | Aug 28, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
I admit it–I don’t read for pleasure as much as I used to. Mostly because during the school year, I spend so many hours a day reading to my kids, writing, and editing that by the end of the day, my eyes and brain say, “Nope, we’re done. Stare at the television or go to sleep. Those are your choices.”
But there’s another reason. It’s because I’ve trained myself so much to be an editor that I can’t read a book without noting what I’d ask the author to change…and that get really, really annoying when I’m just reading for fun, LOL.
Now, the mark of a truly excellent book is when the editor switches off, or at least finds nothing to whine about. That happens, and I love it when it does. But other times…yeah. I recently read a dystopian where the character at one point mentions that in her town, there’s no music. She barely has a concept of what it is. Then a few scenes later, she likens someone’s breathing to a concertina. Um, no. If you don’t know what music is, you aren’t going to think in terms of instruments. Sorry. A first person book that suddenly goes out of POV and tells me what another character is thinking? Shudder. And that historical full of inaccuracies? Ouch.
I guess it’s kinda like a doctor watching a medical show. Or someone in law enforcement watching CSI. They’re going to notice the faults, the things the show gets wrong, and it’s going to ruin it for them. Sadly, that’s how some books are for me these days. It’s one thing to notice all the typos, which I’ve always done. But these days, it’s so much more than that.
But then it makes me wonder.
How can God stand to watch us?? LOL. I mean, He’s got it all right. He knows what He’s doing. He knows the right thing, the wrong thing, the so-so things we could do in each moment, and He sees how often we go the wrong way. How often we miss the mark.
And I can imagine Him in heaven, with his metaphorical red pen, saying, “You know, if you’d just let me give you some advice right here…”
But here’s another thing I’ve learned about editors–you have to let them give you advice. Freelancers you hire, and you can totally choose whether to take their advice or ignore them. When you’ve signed a contract with a publishing house, you kinda have to listen to what they say. Kinda. But you might be surprised at how many authors refuse, and take the cancellation of their contract over giving over control of their story.
What about in our lives? Do we give over control to Him? He, who is the ultimate author? The ultimate editor? Who understands far better than we do where the plots of our lives are going? Who knows what’s relevant and what isn’t? Where our focus should be?
Lord, be my editor. Catch all my errors and help me correct them. Cut out all that fluff I don’t need in my life. Keep my words tight and true to You. Lord, be my editor…and help me to take Your perfect advice.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.