by Roseanna White | Jun 27, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
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| The Dentist by Gerard van Honthorst, 1622 |
I can say in complete honestly that yesterday evening was just terrible. As in, took me all night to recover. Why, you ask? Because my daughter has a loose tooth.
Now, Xoe has lost four teeth already, and they were FINE. No pain, little bleeding, no prob’m. Yesterday, this tooth twisted into a very funny position and hurt every time she touched it. And my brave little princess who withstood a broken elbow with nary a whimper had a complete meltdown over this. As in, four solid hours of crying. And what really got me was what she was crying: “Get it out, get it out–but don’t touch it.”
Last night, I broke out all the philosophy and truisms I could think of. Though reasoning with a panicked 7-year-old…yeah, um, didn’t accomplish anything. But oh, how it got me thinking.
Because that, right there, is so often me. Not over the physical ouchies, those I can handle. But when we dig deeper–oh yeah. I can imagine God in the same agony I was in last evening, wanting so much to help me while I thrash around insisting He make it go away but not DO anything.
At one point last night, I said to my sweet girl, “Doing nothing will never accomplish anything. Ever. If you want something to change, you have to do something.”
Yet how often do we complain about something in our lives, beg and plead for God to change it, but then sit on our duffs and cry “Stop!” at the first twinge of unease? And much like tooth v. elbow, I’m not talking about the Big Stuff. I’m talking about the everyday.
We want to see our enterprises, our churches, our businesses, our online presences grow…but we don’t want to give up our time, resources, ideas, or prayers to achieve it. We are, in those moments, nothing but screaming children who can’t see our own hypocrisy. Caught in our own inertia, paralyzed by our own fear…or exhaustion…or hunger.
Because we’re hungry. We’re so, so hungry that we feel we can’t move. We want more…or better…or different…and we can see it. We can see the others who sell more, grow more, give more, get more. Why can’t we? Why hasn’t God given us the desires of our heart?
After dealing with a little one who refused food or drink half the day from fear, I have new insight into that. Our beloved Father isn’t withholding what we need. We’re refusing it. We’re not ready. We’re too afraid. We’re too tired. In order to take what he’s offering, we have to move. We have to say, “It’s okay if it hurts.” We have to be willing to do what it takes.
What’s your tooth today? Are you ready to say, “Get it out, Lord, whatever it takes. I trust you.” … Or are you still crying, “Make it go away–just don’t touch it!”?
by Roseanna White | Jun 20, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
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| The Child Handel by Margaret Isabel Dicksee |
Now, I’ll be honest. I didn’t really want to blog today. I’m ten days out from my deadline, still have 10,000 words to cut from
Circle of Spies, plus another read-through to check for typos, and I’m feeling the pressure. Not to mention that I still need to design a map for the front. And a family tree. Oh, and take care of a lot of WhiteFire business that I’m trying not to neglect.
Yeah. No pressure.
But let’s, again be honest. When am I not pressed for time? LOL. So I tell myself to get over it. And I wonder what to muse on today. Slowly, the realization comes.
Reactions. This here, my blogging when I’d rather keep my nose to the manuscript-grindstone, is a reaction. A thought-out response to an internal debate. Not that big a deal, to be sure, but it’s an indicator of how I react to the stressors in my life. Generally speaking, I moan and groan a little, then I get to work. One thing I thankfully inherited from my family is a strong work ethic. Maybe I’m not out in the fields planting crops or putting in long days at a job site, but from dawn to bedtime, I’m at my computer every moment I can be. Working on one or the other of my many projects. My hubby frequently walks by, sees me still at it, and says, “I wish I loved my job as much as you do!”
When it comes to work, I know my reactions are usually what they need to be. But life, now…those can be harder, can’t they? But the more I pause to consider it, the more I realize that it’s not just our actions that define us, that judge us–it’s our reactions.
It’s not just whether I set out to deal fairly–it’s how I respond when someone deals unfairly with me.
It’s not just that I teach my kids to obey–it’s how I respond when they don’t.
It’s not just that I reach out in love–it’s how I respond when someone lashes back at me.
My hubby has some hard business decisions before him (not for the publishing biz), and we were talking about it yesterday. Talking about how, if it were solely a business decision, the answer would be simple. But being us, we can’t separate business decisions from moral decisions. We need to make sure we’re doing what the Lord wants us to do.
Because when it comes down to it, we’re not judged on how people treat us–we’re judged on how we react to them. Sometimes, that goes against our ideas of “fair.” And we want to think that the world will recognize that. Truth? They don’t. They don’t often care how long we’re beaten up or snarled out. They only care whether we fight or forgive.
Now, God never instructed us to be doormats. So sometimes He’ll call us to fight. To chastise. To punish. But other times, He calls us to relent. And knowing which is right in a given situation requires communication with Him.
As I’m in this time of looming deadlines, it’s so easy to respond poorly. To yell when I should smile, to sigh when I should laugh, to growl when I should get up. But I’m challenging myself today to guard my every reaction, to treat it as if it were an action, deliberated and decided upon. To squelch the off-the-cuff and focus on the from-the-heart.
Because I know it matters. I know that’s what defines me. And I know who I want to be.
by Roseanna White | May 30, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
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| The Dance Class by Edgar Degas |
It’s a crazy-busy week around here right now, with everything from kids’ checkups to Xoe’s follow-up at Johns Hopkins on Monday. We have ballet rehearsal, ballet recital, I have a book talk on the free night between those…I’ve got book club and my checkup, dentist appointments and normal stuff for church. Oh, and in the midst of all that, I’ve got to get one title for WhiteFire edited, another laid out for press, final edits prepared on a third, and proof approval on a fourth.
Let’s not even look ahead to next week, when I have to start cutting my behemoth of a manuscript by 35K words. (Insert weeping and gnashing of teeth here.)
I’m a little busy. A little overwhelmed. And I don’t know about you, but when I get busy and overwhelmed, I get this strange sensation…I start to feel alone. Like the world is a sea tossing around me, and I’m all by myself on this little boat, just trying to stay afloat. The more emails I answer, the more I wonder why no one is really writing me…the more alerts I get on Facebook, the more it seems no one is paying attention. The more guest-posts I write for blogs, the more I feel like I’m talking into a vacuum. The more appointments I have, the fewer people I seem to see.
This is nothing but illusion in a lot of ways, a trick of my overwhelmed mind, and I know exactly where it comes from. Because in these times of super-busyness, of overwhelm, everything I usually love just feels like One Thing More. One thing more to do that isn’t helping me do what already needs done. One more decision. One more task. One more tap of the fingers on the keyboard.
As I got up this morning with that cloud of To Dos hanging over me, I said a little prayer for some help through it. And I heard a little reminder in the recesses of my mind. Be still.
I’ve always loved that verse–Be still, and know that I am God. It speaks to so much, doesn’t it? And in context it’s even better.
Come, behold the works of the Lord,
Who has made desolations in the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two;
He burns the chariot in the fire.
10 Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!
~Psalm 46:8-10
Today, you know what that means to me? That all our strife, all our work, all our mighty deeds are nothing. He makes it nothing. He brings peace where there is none. He wipes out where we build up. But he builds up where we would wipe out. And sometimes, He just wants us to stop so that he can work.
It’s a busy time of year for most of us. So much to do, and not doing it isn’t much of an option. But in this crazy weekend, I’m pausing. For just a breath, just a prayer, just a moment. I’m going to be still and give my heart and all its overwhelm to him. Knowing, trusting that whether I succeed or fail, whether I go or stop, whether I cry or laugh, He is God. He will be exalted among the nations. He will be exalted in the earth.
That means in me, too. I exalt you, Lord. May that remain always the task on the top of my list. My top priority. My anchor on those raging seas. I exalt You.
by Roseanna White | May 23, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
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| Baby at Play by Thomas Eakins, 1876 |
As a mama working from home with two home schooled kids, one of whom is only kindergarten aged, I know a lot about interruptions. People frequently ask me, “How do you get anything done?” And in answer, I usually have to shrug. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I only do by popping earbuds in and turning on some instrumental music to drown out Max & Ruby or Octonauts. Sometimes I do a lot of growling about, “Please, just five minutes without squabbling. Please.”
For the most part, my kids are good at entertaining themselves. But as I was trying to hammer through the last few chapters of my manuscript the other day, I found that the interruptions were of a certain type. Rowyn was building. And when Rowyn in building, I hear a lot of this:
“Look, Mommy!”
“Mommy, see what I did here?”
“Hey, Mama, do you know where the other piece like this is?”
“Mommy, ta-da!”
Despite being pulled yet again from my story, I had to smile. It’s such a cute and intrinsic part of childhood, isn’t it? That need to be not just noticed but acknowledged. To have one’s actions and accomplishments cheered and encouraged.
I remember those days. I remember standing at the edge of the pool and saying, “Watch, Mommy. Mommy? Hey, Mommy, watch me! Look what I can do!” before jumping in. I remember rushing in from a day of school, waving the picture I’d colored or the fat red A on the top of a test. I remember my mom smiling and laughing, giving me a kiss. Even though sometimes she was probably thinking, “Yeah, look at you, jumping into the pool exactly like you did twenty seconds ago.” 😉
An adorable part of childhood, to be sure. And yet…not peculiar to our early days, is it? Maybe I don’t have to show my mother every paragraph I write anymore (I mean, as I write it–she still reads most of what I put to paper, LOL). Maybe my every move isn’t a cry of “Look! Notice me! Approve of what I’m doing! Be proud!” Not aloud–but we never really outgrow the instinct, do we?
I can’t design a book cover without showing my husband or best friend. I can’t finish a hard day without inviting someone to note all I accomplished. I can’t scrub a floor without surveying it at the end and saying to my kids, “Just look at that! Doesn’t that look nice?”
People crave approval like we crave air–it’s a necessary part of who we are. We need those pats on the head. We need the smiles. We don’t necessarily need someone to say, “Wow, that’s the best thing ever!” We just need to know they see. That they notice. That they care.
It can be tiring to be the one always having to notice, without often being noticed (says the mom with young kids who really don’t care about a clean floor, LOL). But you know, people pay attention to that too–and more, God does. I think he must smile over our every indulgent smile. I think He must pat our backs when we pat the back of another. I think He loves little more than watching His children love one another.
Sometimes I need the reminder to slow down and notice. To spare those few seconds that make another’s day. So this is me reminding myself. And it’s me reminding you. Pay attention today. Take a few seconds to let those in your life know you’re watching, you’re really seeing them, that their ever little action is a precious part of your day, of your life.
Cherish those ta-das. There’s nothing else in the world like them.
by Roseanna White | May 9, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Phew. It’s been a week, that’s for sure. A rather long one, with trips to and from Baltimore, worry over my brave little princess, and nothing remotely resembling routine.
Praise be to the Lord, elbows heal fast, so Xoe’s not in pain except for when she bumps it. But there are some obvious adjustments that come when one can’t use one’s dominant hand, and as a homeschool family, we get to make all those ourselves. A few lessons have just been suspended–like handwriting. Spelling is now out loud or on the chalk board rather than in a notebook. But others involve a scribe. Which would be me, LOL. It can be fun to find alternative ways of doing familiar lessons, but it takes a wee bit more time.
We “collected” a lot of prayers last week, and I’m just in awe of the amazing group of prayer warriors who surrounded my little girl with their petitions. I can’t thank everyone enough for that, or for the continued prayers for correct healing. We’ve been showered with cute little gifts and cards for the Xo-girl.
Tomorrow is an all-day field trip to an Army Heritage museum, so my still-reeling self will be trying to play catch-up-and-get-ahead today. I can’t quite believe it’s Thursday already! So please forgive me for cutting this short this morning. And thank you, again and again, for all the prayers for my family this past week!
by Roseanna White | Apr 25, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Tuesday night/Wednesday was, let’s say, not great. When I went to bed at 11, I’d meant to set my alarm for 5:30 but forgot. I wanted to get up early to write, but I’d been waking up early on my own, so I figured I’d be fine.
At 1 a.m., a very distressed “Mommy!” woke me up. Poor Xoe (7) was sick. And proceeded to be sick every half hour, meaning that neither of us had the chance to go back to sleep. At about 3, I had the thought that, unlike the last time we had a sick kid in the middle of the night, there was nothing going on this Wednesday that I would have to plan around. We could just rest.
Thank you, Lord.
The pattern continued until, oh, 5:00. I fell back into bed that time staring at the clock and wondering if, unlike every other time, either of us would manage to get back to sleep before the nausea struck again. Oh, I prayed so. I prayed so with every fiber of my being, as I had been praying for the last two hours.
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Women Doing Laundry by Jahn Ekenaes
(Oh yes, thank you for washing machines!) |
Downstairs I heard the whir of the dryer. The chug of the washer. And it occurred to me that plenty of times over the past two years, one or the other of those machines had been not working improperly, either plain not going or not draining right. But tonight, both were behaving beautifully as they washed the sheets and towels and clothes soiled from upset bellies.
Thank you, Lord.
At 6:00 when I heard the bathroom door creak again, I realized I had actually slept for the first time since those two hours at the beginning of the night, and that Xoe had too.
Thank you, Lord.
Though my poor little dumpling understandably asked when she was going to stop and feel better, she smiled as I tucked her, yet again, into bed.
Thank you, Lord.
A mere half hour later, Rowyn woke up. Too chipper for his exhausted mama, waaaaaaaaay too bouncy. But chipper and happy and healthy.
Thank you, Lord.
By no means was this a great day. Certainly not the day I’d planned when I meant to set my alarm and wake up early to write. We weren’t out basking in the beautiful 75-degree sunshine like I would normally have wanted.
But you know, it’s just the flu. It passes quickly. We can deal with it. We have the blessing of being able to redo our schedule at the drop of a hat, thanks to homeschooling. I work from home, so I can just declare it a sick day if I have to. We can rest, we can recuperate, and we can so what needs doing. And oh, how much doable it all seems when I remember to take those moments between the yucks and exhaustion to
Thank you, Lord.
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.