Thoughtful About . . . When We’re Pressed

by Roseanna White | Jun 30, 2016 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Life is hard. So often we feel pressure. People are pushing us. Prodding us. Poking us. Sometimes, when circumstances are weighing heavy, we get that tight feeling in our chest, right? Or in our stomach. Stress. Overwhelm.

We get tired.

We get frustrated.

We react.

But how do we react? Or the better question, how should we?

In his sermon last weekend, my dad used this analogy, and it really struck me. Take an orange and squeeze it, press it–what do you get? Orange juice. Not apple juice. Not grape juice.

Take a sponge and squeeze it, and what do you get? Whatever liquid it has soaked up.

Take a plant and press it, and what comes out? The oils or fluids from inside the plant.

Now, take a piece of rotten fruit and squeeze it, and what comes out? Rot. Decay. Stench.

Getting the picture? When pressed, what comes out of a thing? What’s inside it.

So let’s take that back to us. What comes out of us when we’re pressed? (Yes, the comedian in me said, “Blood and gross-squishy-red-stuff.” [Bonus points if you get the Phineas and Ferb reference.] But let’s be serious, LOL.)

What comes out is what’s within. So if we’re frustrated, that frustration comes out. If we’re unhappy, we spew unhappiness. If we’re bitter, that bile is just going to come oozing out of our mouths. But is that all that’s inside us, even when we’re not at our best?

When we’re people of faith, there is always Something else inside us. Someone else. The Holy Spirit lives here. He’s inside me. Jesus is inside me. So with them, what else is inside me?

Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness.

When we’re pressed, squeezed, put under pressure, when we’re poked, prodded, and pushed, that is what should come pouring out of us–that should be what’s within us.

Humbling, isn’t it? When you’re feeling the pressure of life, are you greeting it with love? With Joy? Do we greet evil with goodness? Prodding with patience? Are we, when we’re at our lowest, when we’re been squeezed so much by life that the pain is palpable, shining with faithfulness?

If we’re not, than that says something about what’s inside us–and about what isn’t. We can’t pour out what we don’t have; and we can’t have good fruit inside us yet spill out rot and decay. If that’s what’s coming out, it’s because that’s what’s within.

And if that’s what’s within, then we need to do some serious work on ourselves. We need to turn those rotten spots over to God and let Him prune them away. We need to plead with Him to fill us with the good stuff inside.

And He will.

Until our cup runs over with His light. It’ll spill right out of us . . . and right into the world. And then, when we’re pressed, people will see Him.

I can’t think of a more beautiful way to show people who Jesus really is.

Thoughtful About . . . Being “Too Young”

by Roseanna White | Jun 16, 2016 | Thoughtful Thursdays

It’s a busy week here in the White House. David’s birthday was on Sunday (and I’d like to give a big shout-out of thanks to the Penguins for winning the Stanley Cup that day, which made a fantastic birthday present for that die-hard fan. When they won, I looked over and said, “Happy birthday! See what I got you?” Oh yeah. All me. 😉 Ahem.) Friday is our 15th anniversary. Sunday is my sister’s birthday and Father’s Day.

Yes, much to celebrate this week. And as I look over at that man I love so much, I know I’ve already said many, many times how much I love him. I’ve mused endlessly over the years about love and anniversaries and how I wouldn’t change a thing.

And I still wouldn’t change a thing. Just the other day, we were talking about how we’re at the age where people look back on their teen years and think, “What in the world was I thinking?” But I don’t. I still look back on my teen years and nod. I knew what I was thinking and doing. I was responsible. I was mature. I was determined. And I was right. I think I’ve earned the privilege of saying so at this point, LOL.

See, the world told us then that we were too young to get married. We were too young to know what we wanted. We were just too young, and we’d pay for it. We had people aplenty saying it wouldn’t last and asking us why we didn’t just live together.

And I shook my head, anger rising. I shake my still, and still feel that anger. This world, that condemns so quickly, is so very off. This world deems it acceptable to sleep with someone but risky to commit. This world tells young people that they can’t make decisions to stay with one person for the rest of their life, but they can decide to give their bodies to countless people if they so choose.

This world is backward.

And it still frustrates me when I hear people saying, “You’re too young to be thinking about dating so seriously. You think you’re in love, but you don’t know what love is. It won’t stand the test of time. Do you have any idea how few people actually stay married to their high school sweetheart?”

But think how different our world might look if we taught our kids what real love looks like–sacrificial and brave, selfless and strong–rather than telling them they can’t recognize it. Think what our world might look like if we taught children to make good decisions rather than telling them they don’t know how. Think of what it could mean if we gave them confidence in who they are rather than telling them all their lives that they don’t know their own minds and can’t be trusted.

Think how different the world would be if we taught people to respect marriage as something created to make us holy rather than to use it as a tool to gain our own happiness.

Because a good marriage has nothing to do with the age of the people going in. It has to do with the emotional maturity of the people going in. And we live in a world where emotional immaturity is the order of the day. We live in a world that preaches personal happiness above all. We live in a world of “You’re Worth It” and “Put Yourself First.” These are antithetical to a good marriage. A good marriage is about telling the other person that he is worth the sacrifice. It’s about putting her first. It’s about going through each day asking, not “What’s in it for me?” but, “What can I do for you?” It’s about knowing that God didn’t design this sacred union to make you happy–He designed it to draw you closer to Him and to make you stronger together than you can be apart.

Do I think most 18-year-olds today are ready for marriage? Um, no. But it has nothing to do with how long they’ve been on this earth and everything to do with how they’ve spent the time they’ve had here. I think 150 years ago, 18-year-olds were absolutely ready for marriage. I think 350 years ago, 18-year-olds were considered past their prime. I think much of our opinion on this comes from the very newfangled idea of adolescence and teen years and the place we’ve given that oddity in our society. Historically, this idea of in-between didn’t exist. There were children. There were adults. You were one, then you were another. The goal of the first was to prepare them to be the second. These days, we hurry our children through those early years (put them in school earlier and earlier, teach them to read earlier and earlier, cut back on play time…), but then we tell them to slow down (you’re too young for that, you don’t understand this, it’s just your hormones, not your heart…). Is it any wonder kids are confused? We rush them out of the time they should spend a few more years in, but then we tell them to put on the brakes. We’ve created a limbo for our young people that has no responsibility and yet huge expectations.

If I had my “druthers,” society would focus on teaching youth to handle responsibility rather than telling them they can’t. We’d teach them to think and reason rather than to react with nothing but emojis. We’d teach them to look ahead rather than to hit the backspace key. And we’d stop judging maturity based on how many years a person has lived and start judging it based on the decisions they make.

The world told me I was too young to get engaged at 17. Too young to get married at 18. The world thought I should have just given my body to the man I loved, that that would have been more responsible than waiting for sex and marrying young. The world told me it wouldn’t last, and that marriage is a failure unless I’m 100% happy every day.

The world is stupid.

I wasn’t too young. I made the right choices. And while I would indeed say that I’m happy a huge majority of the time, it’s because I know that happiness isn’t to be found in what I get–it’s to be found in what I give. And because my husband and I both understand this and both deem it worth fighting for, we’ve got 15 years under our belts already.

There are bumps in the road. Facing them has nothing to do with how old we are–it has to do with Whose hand we put ours in as we do. Each other’s…and God’s.

Thoughtful About . . . The Mismatched

by Roseanna White | Jun 2, 2016 | Thoughtful Thursdays

When I got married, I filled out a registry. A wish list. It had on it all the things one would expect–dishes and cookware, sheets and towels.

All of them, sets. Matching.

Off-white plates with flowers around the edges. Matching cups. A set of cutlery. Glasses that complemented. Things designed carefully to look good beside each other. That wore a uniform. That were all the same in their perfection.

Over the years, plates and bowls and glasses have gotten broken. Cutlery has, somehow or another, vanished. This piece and that piece have been lent out and forgotten. Over the years, our collection of dishes has been subtracted from and added to.

Now it’s a hodgepodge. It’s a mixture. A motley array of mismatched this-and-that.

And I love it.

I’ve heard before (though I don’t honestly remember from whom) the statement, “I just want dishes that match!” At the time, I commiserated. This seems like a good thing, you know?

But when I pause to think about it . . . which coffee cup is my favorite? The Disney mug I bought for myself when I was 14. The one that has no match. Is part of no set. The one that’s unique. It fits my hand, and I like how much it holds. I’ve even caught myself, when in a rental house for vacation or in my church kitchen, always seeking out a mug that’s different. That won’t be confused with anyone else’s. That’s unique and inviting.

Still, I was somewhat surprised when my kids, a couple years ago, began the following conversation:

Rowyn: “Can I have that spoon instead of this one? That one’s my favorite.”
Xoe: “Really? I don’t have a favorite spoon. But I have a favorite fork. It’s the one with the stars on it.”
Rowyn: “You can have that one. I like the little one with the flowers.”

I smiled as I heard them talking oh-so-seriously about which of the mismatched cutlery they preferred. Why?

Because they both favored the unique pieces. The one-of-a-kind ones. Yes, that’s part of it.

But also because only then did I realize that their favorites were my least favorites. That the ones that don’t please me aesthetically for one reason or another, they find beautiful.

And that this is something I never would have learned in this particular way if all my silverware still matched.

When we’re surrounded by the same, we’re not given the chance to find our preferences. When we have only that perfect set, there isn’t room for individuality. When everything matches, nothing stands out. Not that there’s anything wrong with a matching set of dishes, LOL. It’s certainly a handy way to buy something you need.

But there’s something so beautiful in the mismatched. There’s something freeing. Something encouraging.

Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t quite fit in a set. Right? We’re all a little different. A little off. A little bigger or smaller or cracked. We’re different colors. Different shapes.

And that’s how we’re supposed to be. Because different people find different things beautiful. We have different needs. My favorite will not be yours, necessarily. And that’s good. That’s right. We all appreciate different facets of this beautiful world. For different reasons that invite us in different ways.

God didn’t create much of anything in neat, orderly sets. He created a wild profusion of beauty. He created the this-and-that. The hodgepodge. Mismatched. Mountains and valleys, rivers and seas, deserts and rain forests. And He declared it good.

I’ll probably never have a matching set of dishes again, much less cutlery or glasses. And you know what?

It’s good.

Thoughtful About . . . Whatever Things Are True

by Roseanna White | May 19, 2016 | Thoughtful Thursdays

I daresay we’ve all read Philippians 4:8-9. I know I’ve read it many times. I’ve heard it quoted. I’ve read bloggers
and reviewers who make it their mantra . . . and occasionally I have been
seriously irritated when people condemn something using this as their excuse.
Because God’s word is beautiful . . . but sometimes people . . . people
use it as a bludgeon. Or worse, as an excuse to look only at the surface of a thing. To take the easy way out.

Last week, I was finishing up our read-alouds for the homeschool year, and Philippians was our final book. Chapter 4, obviously, our final chapter. A great way to end a school year.

Because the kids sometimes had difficulty following the New King James version of Paul’s epistles, I’d been reading from The Message. Here’s how it puts verses 8-9.

The two aren’t terribly different, but a few words are. We have:

I think we can all agree with what Paul is saying here–that by focusing, dwelling, meditating on these righteous things, these good things, on what is holy, we keep ourselves better aligned with God. Absolutely.

Here, however, is the question–what is true? What is noble? What is just and reputable? What is pure and authentic? Lovely? Compelling? Of good report and gracious? What is full of virtue and praiseworthy?

It seems like it should be a simple question.

But it’s not.

What if, for instance, you’re reading a Christian book and you find something objectionable in it? To keep it only somewhat objectionable, let’s say that it’s mentioned that someone curses or makes a rude gesture or sins outright.

Should we toss that book aside, because it’s not dwelling on good things?

I’m not actually talking about my books in particular, LOL. I’m talking about many discussions I’ve seen over the years. Including a statement made with what I deem infinite wisdom a few days ago: if you refuse to read anything that mentions sin . . . then you can’t read the Bible.

How does God show us His light? His glory? His righteousness?
By comparing it to darkness. To deception. To sin.

How does God show us His ultimate love in the form of Jesus?
By sending him into a dying world, to be treated as a criminal and murdered.

How does God teach us how to seek after His heart?
By telling us the stories of those who did, and those who didn’t, and those who mostly did but failed here and there. Or mostly didn’t but then saw the Truth.

A few weeks ago, I had a Skype call with a college class that was teaching Christian fiction writing, and one of the questions they asked was, “What place do dark themes have in Christian fiction?”

I answered them with the answer I’ve come to after many years of thinking about. Praying about it. And trying it out.

I don’t approve of darkness in Christian fiction for the sake of darkness. I don’t like it for shock value or to prove a point. I don’t like being left with darkness at the end of the book.

But God’s light shines brightest when there is darkness surrounding it that is trying–and FAILING–to snuff it out. God’s mercy is the most striking to those who have suffered. God’s leading is the most meaningful when you were lost. God’s healing is the most miraculous for those are sick and dying. God’s grace is the most beautiful in the face of the ugliest sin.

What is true? What is noble? That there is ugliness and nastiness and sin in this world, but that God is bigger. What is just? That we are deserving of death for our sins. What is pure? That He washes those sins away. What is lovely? A sunrise after the darkest night. What is gracious? A Father who gathers His children close and wipes away their tears and whispers that He loves them, no matter what has come before. That they can rise up and sin no more.

There will be dark themes in my books–some more than others. There will be ugliness, and there will be heartbreak, and there will be sin. Because then there will be grace, and there will be redemption, and there will be change. Because that is what speaks Jesus to a hurting, sinful world. Not the picture of a perfect life that they can’t relate to because it doesn’t exist–the picture of a broken world made whole through Him.

I mediate on that a lot. Not on things that look pretty on the surface–on things made beautiful by Him.

And the peace of God is with me.

Thoughtful About . . . Each One

by Roseanna White | May 12, 2016 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Thoughtful About . . . Contests and Awards

by Roseanna White | May 3, 2016 | Thoughtful Thursdays

My Monday started out pretty normal–I was editing Giver of Wonders, which made me two minutes late to get our homeschool day started. Had a load of laundry in. As soon as morning classes were done, I ran to get dressed, get the garbage down to the end of the driveway, and then switched out the laundry.

Only after that did I bother slipping over to my computer. There was a message flashing for my attention on Facebook, from a writing friend (she will remain anonymous for the protection of her cat, tee hee hee). It said:

Congratulations on your Christy nomination for The Lost Heiress!!!!!!!! Dani Pettrey just shared this and I scared my cat squealing so loud…

My oh-so-eloquent reply:

My WHAT?!

I soon saw for myself.

Needless to say, I got very little accomplished after that. I answered a lot of messages and comments and emails.

And I had plenty of time to think.

I’ve blogged before about contests and the twisty paths to our dreams. I wrote the post in 2012, and it’s mostly held true for me. I’ve had to keep a constant rein on my emotions when it comes to contests, because I’m a competitive person given to pride, and I do NOT want to ever make winning an award my goal in  my writing life. In 2012 I stated that God hadn’t called me to give up contests.

Here’s how that’s progressed.

First, He made it clear it was something I shouldn’t put my money into, as I had other places that needed it more. I only entered when my publisher offered to pay for it.

Next, He made it clear that I could only enter this one particular book one year, for this one particular reason.

This year, He said, Do you really need that?

And I said, “No. I don’t. I’m done entering contests. If ever you want me to have anything to do with another one, Lord, it’ll have to be one that someone else nominates me for.”

You see, I’d asked my agent about them, and she gave me her wise experience–that they don’t boost sales; they’re largely just bragging rights. And lemme just tell you, I do NOT need to slip into bragging, LOL. I know how cranky I get when finalist lists are published, even when I didn’t enter the contest. (No, that’s not pretty. Which is why I grant myself exactly two seconds to be not-pretty about it, confess my not-pretty to my best friend who understands completely, and then congratulate the finalists and move on. I really am happy for my friends who final–really, really, really. It always just takes me a second to remember that I’m not pursuing that, because it makes me not-pretty.)

So here I am on the Tuesday following the announcement of the Christy Award nominations. I have that beautiful meme with the award seal and my book beside some other truly fabulous books. And I reread my post from 2012, and I think, “How do I feel about contests today?”

Well, in some ways no different at all. The fact remains that even if I win, it’s not going to change anything. Books aren’t going to fly off shelves. My old mini van isn’t going to morph into a limousine. My kids certainly aren’t going to stop asking me to make their lunch or scowling at me when I tell them to do their schoolwork. My life won’t change in the slightest, except that, if I won, I would get to put Award-winning author of The Lost Heiress before my name.

But a few new thoughts have surfaced.

First and foremost, I am so honored that my publisher entered my book. Pubs don’t tell authors who they enter and who they don’t, for obvious reasons. So as an author, we can’t even know if we’re under consideration until that list comes out, and then we only know if we’re on it. Not being on it could mean we just didn’t make the cut, or it could mean our publisher didn’t submit it.

Bethany House submitted it. They invested money and faith in me. That . . . that right there means so much. It humbles me. And it makes me smile. I’m so incredibly blessed to be working for this company, to be on my second series with them.

Next thought–I love this industry. Not because of the companies or the awards or the anything–I love the people. Because within minutes, Tamera Alexander had emailed me and Jody Hedlund and Elizabeth Camden to congratulate us all, encourage us all, and say what an honor it is to be on the list with us.

Insert Roseanna laughing, because we all know that if anyone’s honored to be on the list with anyone else… 😉 Seriously, these ladies rank as some of my favorite authors. And even more so now, as we exchanged a few emails. There was no sense of competition. Just a comradeship. A sense of “We’re in this together, and let’s celebrate getting this far together!”

What a beautiful thing. What beautiful people.

Am I happy? Sure. It’s an amazing surprise to get on a Monday morning. But that’s all it is. A happy surprise. An afternoon with an extra piece of chocolate and a lot of comment-answering to gobble up my time. It doesn’t change my book. It doesn’t change me. We’re both still what we were before that list came out. And my goal is still, always, to write to win hearts, not awards. To follow His call.

I’m probing deep inside now, making sure that I really, honestly don’t care if I win or lose. Because in the past, I haven’t been quite okay. Mostly okay. But there’s always been a pang. And I guess we’ll see if that pang is still there when the winner is announced in June. But right now…right now I feel free of that. I’m just grateful. Just honored. And just as certain as ever that it doesn’t matter. Not the award or the potential for it.

But there is something that matters in all this.

There is Bethany House, who believe in me. There are readers who were judges, who saw value in a story into which I poured 20 years of my heart. There are Tammy and Jody and Dorothy, who are amazing women I get to sit beside at this virtual table. There are friends and readers who took the time to get in touch with me yesterday to offer their congratulations.

And there is, always, my Lord. Who shows me that as with everything else in life, the real reward is in the people. The relationships. Never in the gold seal.