by Roseanna White | Jun 9, 2014 | Word of the Week
While we were in the doctor’s office on Friday, we were musing about the biohazard symbol…and wondering what it meant and how it came to be chosen. So thanks to the wonders of smart phones, my hubby looked it up. đ
I’m just going to quote directly from the source on this one.
“We wanted something that was memorable but meaningless, so we could educate people as to what it means.” In an article in Science
in 1967, the symbol was presented as the new standard for all
biological hazards (“biohazards”). The article explained that over 40
symbols were drawn up by Dow artists, and all of the symbols
investigated had to meet a number of criteria: “(i) striking in form in
order to draw immediate attention; (ii) unique and unambiguous, in order
not to be confused with symbols used for other purposes; (iii) quickly
recognizable and easily recalled; (iv) easily stenciled; (v)
symmetrical, in order to appear identical from all angles of approach;
and (vi) acceptable to groups of varying ethnic backgrounds.” The chosen
scored the best on nationwide testing for memorability.
Interesting, eh?
I’m fond of this one, LOL. Basically a drawing of a shout, it’s just a warning or hazard sign–a rather generic one, used in Europe when a specific hazard doesn’t fit. So you might see it on a road, for instance. Though apparently some places insist on a description sign posted under it so people know what they’re to be exclaiming about.
And finally…
The skull and crossbones is a rather universal symbol for poisonous material. But because it’s also on the Jolly Roger…and because playing pirates has become so much fun…in the U.S. the good ol’ skull is often replaced with Mr. Yuk, because they’re afraid the above will actually encourage children to play with it. Go figure!
And sheesh, what a bleak post, LOL. But hopefully as interesting to you as it was for me! Now go out and have a hazard-free day. đ
by Roseanna White | Jun 5, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Reality and our minds’ eyes very rarely agree. Depending on the type of person we are–and the situation–we tend to see things in extremes. As either terrible or grand, though it’s really somewhere in between.
Right now we’re doing some remodeling of our old house. And as I fill trash bags with all the stuff I didn’t want to take with us when we moved, I see that old house as something like this:
Which is ironic, because in my brain, my house should look something like this:
But as I grumble and pack and strip wallpaper and scrub and carry boxes until my back screams at me, I can hear that whisper in the deep places of my heart. The one that says:
I gave you a roof over your head.
I gave you heat in the winter, even if you had to build it by hand in the stove.
I gave you air conditioning in the summer, even if you had to put it in your window.
So many of my children don’t have that.
I gave you the means to buy all this stuff you now deem garbage.
I gave you enough, always enough.
More, I gave you plenty. I gave you bounty.
And I am shamed. And I have to pause and thank Him for providing. For always making sure what I have is sufficient. For the luxury I live in as an American. And I need to learn that what I make of those blessings is up to me. It’s mine to say no when someone offers what I don’t need, what will only clutter things up. It’s mine to say thanks for what I have. It’s mine to take care of it all and be a responsible steward.
I load all those boxes and bags into the back of our old clunker minivan that we bought for a song last year. And you know, sometimes I’m almost embarrassed to be seen in that thing. It’s not sleek and stylish. It’s not filled with cool features or storage compartments or the latest technology. It literally clunks every time we go around a turn. I often look at that old thing and see this:
when what I want to be driving is this:
Then I hear that voice again.
You prayed to somehow
have a van but no extra debt.
I you a van with no
debt.
I gave you wheels.
I gave you storage
space.
I gave you extra seats
for hauling around nieces or friends.
I gave you this to
keep you from spending money that I knew you wouldnât have.
I took care of you
with this old machine.
And I remember how I knew, knew when the offer for the van came, that the Lord was preparing
us for changes. I knew, when I saw Him taking burdens of debt from us, that it
was because weâd have to be free of itâwhich meant financial change on the
horizon. And I thank Him again for taking such tremendous care of us.
So I scrub that old carpet. My husband crawls under it or
leans into the hood to fix whatâs broken. My kids scrabble in with all the love
for that old clunker that they would give a shiny new car.
In April when I was on my writing retreat with my best
friend, we listened to a couple workshop MP3s from past conferences. The
amazing Susan Miesner said something that I found both hilarious and true. That
she doesnât know why they call them âroyalty reports.â Because when she opens
them up, she never feels like a princess.
For most of us, that is so, so true. I look at where my
books fall in the scale, and I realize Iâm not at the top. Iâm not a
bestseller. Iâm not an award winner. In this business, itâs so, so easy to get
discouraged when we compare ourselves to others. But oh, how well I know the
whisper on this topic!
Your words are
reaching My children.
Youâre telling the
stories I plant in your mind.
Publishers invest in
you.
Readers email you.
I gave you your
dreams.
I am humbled, and so very grateful. I praise Him for this
opportunity, and I put my nose to the grindstone and work as hard as I possibly
can to be faithful to this blessing.
But thenâŚthen there are the times we all know so well. The
times when we look in the mirror.
Iâve always been oddly confident in my appearance. I
honestly donât know why. Iâm not a super model by any stretch, my body is far
from perfect. I can no longer fit in those size 2 clothes I still had in the
back of my closet. Iâm not willing to spend hours each day exercising or give
up the foods I most love. So yeah, my figure has changed over the years. Itâs
not exactly what I want it to be. I still have a bump on my nose, and my
complexion hasnât been clear since I was 10. But Iâve always thought itâs more
about how I feel than anything. So I make sure I feel great in whatever clothes
I buy. Iâll change my outfit five times even on days Iâm not leaving the house,
because I need to feel right in
whatever Iâm wearing on a given day. I like to think I carry myself with
confidence that people notice more than my actual assets or flaws.
I donât always like the reality that looks back at me in the
mirror. I get self-conscience when Iâm stuck wearing clothes that donât make me
feel like a million bucks. I hate it when makeup wonât cover the flaws. Or when
an adorable outfit in the store doesnât fit.
But I know that God doesnât see that either. I know Iâm His
daughter, precious in His sight. And itâs that whisper that matters most. Itâs
what He sees there that is so very important.
I want Him to look at me and say:
You have a spirit that
seeks me.
You answer when I
call.
You love despite the
risks.
You feed those who are
hungry.
You clothe those who
are naked.
You nurture even when
you hurt.
You forgive when itâs
tempting to cling to offense.
You sacrifice when I
ask you to.
You teach your
children, My children, to love Me.
You speak the words I
ask you to speak.
You seek My reward
above manâs.
You are My daughterâwell
done, faithful servant.
If that is my goal, if that is my achievement in life, then
Iâve lived a life worthwhile. And then it doesnât matter what I wear or what I
drive or where I live. It doesnât matter what I have or what I donât. It doesnât
matter what others say, though I still pray they see Him in me.
What matters is that, in His eyes, Iâm more than the sum of
my parts. Because I have Him in me.
Masnion photo credit: Werner Kunz via photopin cc
Rusted car photo credit: GOC53 via photopin cc
by Roseanna White | Jun 4, 2014 | Remember When Wednesdays
I have less than a month until The Lost Heiress must be turned into my editor at Bethany House. And though I’m distracted with moving, I’m also excited. Especially as my hubby reads the manuscript and says lovely things like “When did you get so good at nuance?” and “You really pulled off making her seem French this time around.” and “You know, the crazy thing is that I don’t feel like I’ve read this before.” (even though he’s read about three different versions of it. Ahh… đ
So as I work on my final round of pre-turning-it-in edits, giving extraordinary amounts of attention to every…single…line, I find myself occasionally going back to my Pinterest board for the book for a little inspiration.
And I realize I don’t have nearly enough fabulous fashion pictured there. đ I mean, there are quite a few…but not enough. Never enough!
Hence the challenge. You need a distraction, right? Well here you go. Spend a few minutes looking up Edwardian fashion for me, and you could win books, books, and more books!
Here’s how it works.
1.) Search for Edwardian gowns/dresses, between 1910 and 1913
2.) Go the Facebook events page (click here) and post your link
3.) Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for a chance to win a stack o’ books!
What books, you ask? Fabulous question. See, as I was stacking my oh-so-beautiful shelves on Monday…
…I discovered that I somehow ended up with duplicates of quite a few amazing books. So rather than take up precious space on my shelves, I’m giving away the lot! There will be ONE WINNER (because I can barely get one box into the mail, much less 8) of this lot, which includes:
A Hope Undaunted by Julie Lessman
Heart’s Safe Passage by Laure Alice Eakes
A Necessary Deception by Laurie Alice Eakes
The Master’s Wall by Sandi Rog
To Die For by Sandra Byrd
The Blue Enchantress by MaryLu Tyndall
Surrender the Dawn by MaryLu Tyndall
So get searching, have fun, share (you can do this once a day!) for the next week, and maybe you’ll win!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
by Roseanna White | Jun 2, 2014 | Word of the Week
|
A place at which I love to hang out…
Seascape by William Trost Richards, 1901 |
I looked this word up the other day to make sure “get the hang of it” would be an appropriate phrase to use in a book set in 1911–and discovered that there are a plethora of hang uses with surprising elements!
The one in question dates from 1834–and was a primarily American use of the word for a great many years.
But it was the verb usages that surprised me. The “teen slang” sense of hang that means “spend time” dates from 1951–which is about what I’d expect. But did you know that hang out is from 1811?? I had no idea it was so old! And hang around, meaning “idle, loiter,” is from 1830. Another one that was way older than I thought!
by Roseanna White | May 29, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Last fall, we moved. But we moved in a rush, to a smaller house that was given to us by my hubby’s grandfather. We had a lot of work to do on the old one, so were in no rush to sell. We took what we needed right away…and then the bad weather closed in. It was not a good winter to move, and every weekend when it might have been possible, it was either snowing, raining, icing, our help was out of town, or there were more pressing repairs to be made to, say, automobiles.
So 9 months later, we’re finally getting to work–and on a tight schedule.
 |
A few boxes of books. Just a few.
Many more to come… |
As the one who will not be patching walls and rewiring, hanging new doors or plumbing, I’m on clean-out detail. And oh. My. Gracious.
When we moved back to Cumberland from Annapolis, Xoe was only 3 months old–she’s now 8.5. I was only a year and a half out of college. Now we’re planning our 10 year reunion. When we moved, I’d shoved a lot of clothes into a portion of a closet that’s hard to reach and unseen, and totally forgot about them. I just went through them last week and had to laugh. The wedding dress, okay. But seriously? That dress from high school? And that one from middle school? I still had that?? Why in the world did I still have that???
I discovered the amazing mess of items that the kids managed to lose under the bunk bed and behind the dresser in their room. I re-learned how few books you can really fit in a box. I found an insurance policy from our first apartment back in 2001. I scrubbed out a pretty-darn-gross fridge with nothing but elbow grease, cold water, and Windex. And I marveled at how much junk we’d accumulated–things that seemed so important at some point, but which I now threw out with no compunction.
And I wonder…what else in my life–in my emotional, spiritual, unseen life–is like that? How much do I cling to when I need to let it go? How much is begging for a good spring cleaning, a purging, a blank slate, but is still gunked up because I don’t have the time or energy or strength to let it go?
Then there are the things we’re looking for. For months, Xoe has been wondering where her little Ty hippo was. We verified it wasn’t among the toys brought over. So every time we went to the other house, Xoe looked for Humba. We checked all the likely places. The toy box. Under the bed. Under the couch. Downstairs.
Nothing.
She was starting to get upset about it. When I went on my own to do some cleaning on Tuesday, the first words from her mouth afterward were, “Did you find my hippo?”
Nope.
 |
My hutch, now filled with
all my china. =) |
Yesterday, we checked more places. Xoe sighed. We gave up and worked on other things–like moving my cabinet that would hold all my china, which had already been boxed and brought to the new house and now sat in the kitchen, taking up a quarter of my floor space. David and I (both sick) hefted the thing–and we hear Xoe call out, “There she is!”
She’d fallen, inexplicably, behind the cabinet. The last place we ever would have looked for her, there she was.
I was struck by the life lesson there too. That so many times we search and search for something. We work so hard for what we want, in the ways that seem logical. And we fail. Or at least falter. We never seem to attain that thing we’re reaching for.
So eventually we move on to other tasks. The ones that aren’t exactly what we want, but which are more important. And it’s there, in doing what we need to do, that we find that Thing. The one we’d been looking for. God knew all along what we needed to do to get us there, and once we gave up on following our own way–our so-called logic–we get where we need to go.
I’ve got a lot of packing and sorting, tossing out and selling ahead of me yet. No doubt I’ll have a lot more moments of “Why in the world did we keep this??” But maybe I’ll have some more realizations too. Some more opportunities to learn.
 |
| Humba the Hippo – home at last |
And maybe we’ll find some more treasures along the way.
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, sheâs 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 booksâŚto offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.