Roseanna - Roseanna M. White

Themes for Seasons

by Roseanna | Jul 20, 2023 | Thoughtful Thursdays

I know we’ve all had this experience. Something’s on our mind or jumps out at us somewhere…and then we keep smacking into it again and again and AGAIN.

Sometimes it can be bad things, things we’d rather not be reminded of over and over. When we’re in seasons of grief, all the reminders of the loved one we lost can be heavy and hard. When we’re under stress from something in particular, that something shows up everywhere. When we’re dreading something, it surrounds us.

Sometimes the repeated message is one of encouragement, lifting us up day after day when we need it most. Speaking the same edifying words into our spirits day after day, hour after hour, from different sources and different mouths, but always with the same message. Maybe it’s a reminder that we’re loved…or that we’re seen…or that He’s there with us, we’re not alone. Maybe it’s encouragement to press on, to persevere, to run the race with endurance.

Often, in my life at least, I run into specific themes…themes for seasons. Sometimes they speak directly to whatever I’m going through, sure–and sometimes they alert me to something I know I need to pay attention to. Or sometimes I’m pretty sure I just begin to notice what’s already, always surrounding me. Those are fun too.

In the last month or so, I’ve been bumping into a lot of themes that speak to God being the God of the depths and the heights, of sea and of air, heaven and earth. How He calms the waves and the wind, silences the storm, and rescues us in our distress. Why have these jumped out at me? Well, because I’m playing around with a story that leans heavily on these natural elements as themes. There were so many mentions of them in my monthly devotional book though that I stashed the June edition with my research books to draw on whenever I’m writing this story. I literally just opened it to a random page just now and saw this from Psalm 107

Some sailed to the sea in ships
to trade on the mighty waters.
These men have seen the Lord’s deeds,
the wonders he does in the deep.

For he spoke; he summoned the gale,
raising up the waves of the sea.
Tossed up to heaven, then into the deep;
their soul melted away in their distress.

They staggered, reeled like drunken men,
for all their skill was gone.
Then they cried to the Lord in their need
and he rescued them from their distress.

He stilled the storm to a whisper:
all the waves of the sea were hushed.
They rejoiced because of the calm
and he led them to the haven they desired.

These words jumped out at me first because I thought, “Oh hey, I can use these as quotes to start my chapters and sections!” Always the writer, LOL. But they resonate for a far deeper reason.

They resonate because even though I’m not a sailor, even though I’ve never really even been on a ship, even though I’m never in the middle of the sea, beset by literal storms, crying out to God for a very physical deliverance, I still get it. We all do.

Because we’ve all had seasons of life when we feel adrift on an endless sea. When the storms come upon us, and all our strength fails. We all have seasons in life when all our skill, all our talent, all our abilities fail us. We can’t do it anymore. We can’t win against forces so much stronger than us. We can only cry out to God.

And that’s all we have to do. Because God will rescue us. He’s there. He’s not only there, He has the power. The power to calm our storms to a mere whisper. The power to reduce the waves that would swamp us to a mother’s comforting shush. The power to pull us out of the depths and deliver us to a safe harbor.

We’ve all been there, or will be. That’s why Psalm 107 still matters to us today, even when we’re landlocked lubbers. And maybe it’s also why trips to the coast are my favorite–where I can see the vastness of this world stretching out to the horizon. See the minuscule grains of sand beneath my feet. And know that my God is the God of the infinite, in both directions. He is the God of the universe, the galaxy, the solar system, the world, the sea. He is the God of the grains and the crystals and the cells and the molecules and the atoms and the sub-atomic particles. The God of the nano and the macro. The biggest and the smallest. Nothing is outside His power, even when it is so, so outside my own.

That’s a big part of what I want to explore in this story I’m playing with. And it matters, because it’s a big part of the theme for this season of my life.

What’s the theme of your season? What words have you come across over and over again these past weeks or months? What resonates deep in your spirit and speaks to your heart today?

Word of the Week – Dandelion

by Roseanna | Jul 17, 2023 | Word of the Week

Dandelions. We’re all quite familiar with those sunny little flowers, right? Weeds, most people say. But to be quite honest, I always loved them. They’re so cheerful and happy when in their yellow stage…and though not quite so pretty when they’ve gone to seed, that white puff is FUN, am I right? Eh? Eh? 😉

But what about the word itself? Have you ever pondered why this oh-so-abundant member of the daisy family (that’s right, it IS a flower!) has “lion” in its name?

I think I always assumed that it was because the yellow petals were reminiscent of a mane. But nope. I was wrong.

Dandelion, which has been an English word since the 1300s, is actually from Old French dent de lion, which is in turn directly from Latin dens leonis, meaning “lion’s tooth.” Um…er…em…huh? Yup. Not for the petals…for the LEAVES, with their jagged edges.

Go figure!

Another name given once-upon-a-time to this plan was tell-time (also from the late 1300s), so called either because of how the flower opens up with the sunshine, or perhaps based on an idea that the number of puffs it takes to blow off the seeds corresponds to the hour. (Riiiiiight.) I’d never heard that name for them, but it was interesting enough to share!

Okay, so ‘fess up. How do you really feel about dandelions?

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Circus Animals

by Roseanna | Jul 15, 2023 | Circus, Imposters

Menageries have been popular attractions for eons–as in, dating back to the Romans. Their popularity never really waned…and in fact, it increased with time, as education became more common and science advanced. More and more people wanted to understand animals, but traveling to the wilds was still beyond what most of them could hope for.

Enter the menagerie. In the days of absolute monarchy in Europe, it was usually only the richest of nobles and kings who could afford to have such a thing, and they were part of their grand estates and palaces. But then private enterprise began to kick in. Sailors would bring back exotic creatures from the lands they visited–birds, snakes, monkey, and so on–and animal dealers would buy them, then resell to other entrepreneurs.

In the seventeenth and eighteen centuries in England, there were many permanent menageries throughout England, and they enjoyed spectacular success. Eventually these would be called “zoological parks”…or zoos for short. 😉 But in the nineteenth century, the managerie took on new life: because it took on wheels.

The idea of a traveling managerie would have seemed strange to those nobles and kings of centuries past, but in the world of faster transportation and a growing middle class, these exhibits provided a way for people all over the country of all incomes to experience the awe and ahh of animals the would never have seen with their own eyes otherwise.

Traveling circuses–which began with equestrian trick riding anyway–soon had manageries as feature attractions in their shows.

But you can guess what happened–what ALWAYS happens with people.

They got bored. They’d already seen those snakes and birds and monkeys. They wanted MORE. More excitement, bigger animals, wilder animals. They wanted to see them doing something, not just sitting in a cage. And this is where the circus animal shows really began.

Often called “lion acts” because of the popularity of that King of the Jungle, circuses were soon training their animals to put on performances, either as the sole stars or along with their trainers. Lion tamers and their ferocious cats would act out well choreographed shows; women would ride on elephants who balanced on impossibly small objects; comedians (clowns) would let the beasts lead them into hilarious situations to get a laugh.

Many circuses and traveling manageries actually started–or at least furnished–many zoos still popular today. As animals lost popularity or grew too old to perform, they would be set up as a calmer attraction at these parks. But interestingly, many of the animals in manageries still worked–at a large zoo in London, it was commonplace to see zebras pulling lawnmowers or being hitched to carriages. Can you imagine?!

Circus manageries experienced a decline throughout the twentieth century, though it was a gradual one. And their impact on the world cannot be underrated. Thanks to them, millions of people got to study and understand animals from all over the world; zoological parks were founded that enabled further science and study; and even today, children and adults alike can witness the awe and grandeur of creation in their own towns and cities at these zoos.

And of course, in the world of the Imposters, the Fairfax siblings have a little retired managerie that claims part of their heart.

Penelope

Penelope is a capuchin monkey whose favorite place in the world is on Yates’s shoulder.

Leonidas

Leonidas was born in captivity and played with the Fairfax siblings from the time he was a cub. Lions in captivity tend to live longer lives than those in the wild, and he’d getting up there in years and tends to act more like than an overgrown housecat than a wild beast.

Peabody

Peacocks have been kept at noble’s estates for centuries; Peabody came with the circus though, and is known for his stand-offish ways. His feathers, however, are one of Lady M’s signature decorations!

Pardulfo

Lions aren’t the only big cats in the Caesar’s circus managerie! Pardulfo the leopard is another awe-inspiring feline who now calls the Tower his home.

Cassowaries

Though I don’t mention the names of the cassowaries, chasing the chicks when they escape from their holding area is dubbed the new “sport of kings” by the Tower crew.

Ellie

Ellie the elephant isn’t still with the Caesars during the Imposters books, but they all remember her with fondness from their childhood!

Ostriches

The ostriches, though also unnamed in the pages of the books, are another bird present at the Tower who donates some feathers to the fashion endeavors. Ostrich feathers have long been used for everything from hats and fans to pens!

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W R I T E T O F R A N C O

Have questions about the circus or managerie?
You can email Franco directly at
Ringmaster@TheImpostersLtd.com

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The Water Before Us

by Roseanna | Jul 13, 2023 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Last week, the story of Hagar and Ishmael made its way into my reading. Like most other tales from Genesis, it’s so familiar that my eyes sometimes glaze over when I get to it. “Yeah, yeah,” I think to myself. “I know. They got kicked out, ran out of water, angel shows her a well…”

Which is why I stared at those familiar words a good long time last week when something jumped out at me that never had before, despite the dozens of times I’ve read this story.

So she put the child down under a shrub, and then went and sat down opposite him, about a bowshot away; for she said to herself, “Let me not watch to see the child die.” As she sat opposite Ishmael, he began to cry.

God heard the boy’s cry, and God’s messenger called to Hagar from heaven: “What is the matter, Hagar? Don’t be afraid; God has heard the boy’s cry in this plight of his. Arise, lift up the boy, and hold him by the hand; for I will make of him a great nation.”

Then God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water. She went and filled the skin with water, and then she let the boy drink.

Genesis 21:15-19 (emphasis mine)

You can tell from the bold words here what jumped out at me this time. God opened her eyes, and SHE SAW A WELL OF WATER. He didn’t send that angel to touch a rock or the earth and make water spring up where there had been none before. She didn’t discover a hidden stream. She suddenly saw a WELL–as in, access to water dug by men. Something that would have been there all along.

Her salvation, her child’s salvation was always right there in front of her. She just couldn’t see it.

This isn’t recounted to us like the story of Pharaoh or even Paul–God didn’t harden her heart or blind her first, then reveal it all to her. She was just a scared mother, tossed out of her home with her son. She’d given him the last of their supplies. They were wandering in the wilderness of Beersheba.

Did she even bother looking around? Or did she just assume, “This is it. Sarah wanted us gone, and we’re gone. Done for. There’s no help for us out here.”

She was defeated. Utterly, totally defeated. So defeated that she didn’t even bother calling out to the God of Abraham for help. Why should she? Abraham was the one who had sent her out here. He had to have known that one skin of water wouldn’t be enough. Maybe she was angry with him. Maybe she was hurt. Or maybe none of that had a chance of lodging in her heart, because it was too full of impending grief.

She didn’t want to watch her child suffer and die.

Think about this for a minute. If I was out in the desert with my child and we were out of water, I’m pretty sure this wouldn’t be my reaction. I would hold him close. I would suffer right there with him. But maybe I’m judging too harshly, actually.

She put him under a bush. The only shade she could find–but bushes aren’t large. Probably not big enough for both of them. My first thought was, “Wow, Hagar, that was selfish–leaving him to die alone while you go away because you can’t stand to watch.” But you know, I could have it all wrong. I think it’s just as likely, more likely, that she gave him the last scrap of mercy she could find in that wasteland. She gave him the last of their water. She gave him the only sliver of shade. She did every last thing she could do.

And then she was out of ideas. Out of power. Out of resources. She knew–she KNEW–that this was it. They were both going to die. And that heartache did her in.

Then Ishmael did something very simple.

He started crying.

Now, let’s take a step back. This narrative reads like she’s toting around a toddler, but we know that Ishmael was ten years older than Isaac, who was himself three or four by now. This isn’t a child. This is a teenager.

A teenager, so weakened by their plight that his mother has to all but carry him. A teenager, a teenage boy who just watched his mother give him their last bit of hope and walk away to die. A teenager whose father had just cast him out of the only home he’d ever known.

He cried. He cried not in the confusion of a toddler, but with the desperation of a fully reasonable near-adult who knew, just as his mother did, that this was the end. He was too weak to crawl out from under that bush. He’d been too weak to crawl under it, she’d had to put him there. He cried. No words. Just the last of his water reserves, dripping from his eyes.

And God heard him. Neither he nor Hagar had cried out to God. But He heard him anyway. He heard him, because He’d never taken his attention off that abandoned mother and son. He’d told Abraham to obey Sarah’s wishes, knowing full well that He had great things in store for Ishmael too.

Still, He let them wander. He let them get to the end of their ropes. He let them try every…last…thing they could think of. He’d let them use up the last of their resources. He’d let them give up.

Maybe (though I don’t pretend to know the mind of God here!), He waited that extra moment, just to see if they would look beyond their despair to what was there before them the whole time. Or maybe He waited until the last vestiges of pride had fallen away. Maybe they had to be just that desperate before they were ready to hear the voice of an angel. Before they were ready to accept help from the hand of a God they hadn’t even petitioned directly.

The well was there the whole time. There. Just there. It was waiting, right there, as they stumbled to that bush, curled themselves into a ball, and gave up. It was there, right there, when they resigned themselves. It was there when Ishmael let himself cry.

It was there–but it took an act of God for Hagar to see it. It was there–and it was not only the direct answer to the wordless prayer of Ishmael’s cry, it was also the key to that promise, that command, the angel spoke just beforehand. “Arise, lift up the boy, and hold him by the hand; for I will make of him a great nation.”

The words, spoken to a woman blind with despair, could have sounded mocking. They could have sounded impossible. They probably felt unreachable. But then God opened her eyes, and she saw her salvation. She saw how they could take that next step toward a future worth chasing.

If I thought Hagar a little selfish at that abandonment on first glance, the last words of the passage I quoted should have corrected me. She did exactly what any mother would do, after she filled that skin–she gave the water to her son. She filled the skin and brought it directly to him.

How often are we like Hagar and Ishmael in this life? How often do we feel rejected by those who should love and protect us? How often do we feel like we’ve used up the last of our reserves? The last of our ideas? How often does life feel like a wilderness with a glaring, punishing sun and not enough shade?

How often do we do all we possibly can for our children, or our friends, or our spouses, or even ourselves, and KNOW that it isn’t enough? That we can’t save them?

How often does our own despair blind us to the help just a few steps away?

There aren’t always happy endings to our stories, or at least to our chapters. There are tragedies. There is loss. There is grief. There is pain. Sometimes, there really is no well in the wilderness–nothing that will stave off the horrible reality we dread most.

But there is always a God who hears our cries, even when we don’t have the words to direct them to Him. There is always a God watching us, ready to keep His covenant and fulfill His promise.

That doesn’t mean that He will “make a great nation” of each of us. We aren’t all promised prosperity and good health and long life.

But we’re all promised the best reward imaginable when we let Him take us by the hand: being in His presence. And when we’re there, by His side, it isn’t even about relief from the pain and sorrow and tears anymore–it’s about HIM. All about Him. It’s about trusting Him so much that pain and sorrow are understood. Unfathomable to us as finite humans…inescapable in the presence of the divine.

In a sermon I’ll never forget, our pastor said, of heaven, “I don’t want to be there because I’ll be free of pain or reunited with my family. Those are just happy side-effects. I want to be there BECAUSE THAT’S WHERE JESUS IS.” When we’re in His presence, that’s why the other pains and fears fall away. They can’t exist in the light of His face. They’re cast away. Forgotten.

Hagar’s pain, her hopes, her fears, and her entire existence revolved around that boy she tucked under the bush. The boy whose hand the angel instructed her to take. Her son. Her future. Her hope.

Our existence ought to revolve around the Son too. And when we take Him by the hand, we can cling to Him just as He clings to us. Because He is our future. Our hope.

And the wellspring of living water is right before us…if only we open our eyes to see it.

Word of the Week – Diploma

by Roseanna | Jul 10, 2023 | Word of the Week

Okay, I’m a little late in the season for this one, I grant you…but the question came up when my daughter received her high school diploma, and I haven’t honestly done any of these posts since then–June was CRAZY! And I figure, hey, learning is learning. 😉

So the word diploma comes (not surprisingly) from Latin. The Latin word being–brace yourself–diploma. Yep. Straight borrow there. The interesting thing, though, comes in the meaning. The Latin, and the original English that dates from the 1640s, both meant “an official state letter of recommendation.” This would be less like our diplomas today and more like what became a passport or a letter of introduction. The Latin is actually taken straight from the Greek, from the words “fold over.” So not a rolled scroll or something in a frame–a folded piece of paper.

By 1680, it was being used in relation to documents issues by colleges to award achievements. This is of course our primary meaning today–and it’s extended to other schools as well–but it wasn’t exclusively that kind of document until modern times.