by Roseanna White | Jan 31, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
For Christmas, my little guy got some Legos. He’s got great fine motor coordination and will sit there and happily build some fun things. But last week, he just couldn’t get the pieces to stick together like he wanted. And from happy builder he turned into wailing child.
I, in my infinite wisdom, (ahem) said something along the lines of, “Rowyn baby, I know you worked hard, and I understand that it’s frustrating, but you don’t have to cry over it. It’s only blocks.”
My logic did little to help him, gotta say. But it sure resonated with me.
What do you think we look from heaven, toiling away at our lives? Building our castles, our kingdoms, our empires? All our grand plans, all our hard work, all our building and growing and planning? To us, it’s everything. It’s our world. It’s our focus.
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| A Lego building at NASA’s KSC |
But to God? I can imagine him watching us with a fond smile, just like I like watch Rowyn snap colored blocks together. I can imagine him sitting up a little straighter from time to time, opening his mouth to point out a better way to do something–but we, stubborn children that we are, shake our heads and say, “No. I want to do it myself.” I can imagine him sighing when that way doesn’t work and our little world we’ve built comes tumbling down.
And oh, that hurts us. How we cry and rant and rage and sometimes even rail at Him for not making it all better, conveniently forgetting that we refused his guidance because our vision was just so perfect.
That, I think, is when God gathers us into his arms and whispers in our ears, “You don’t have to cry over this, baby. I know you worked hard. I know it’s frustrating when things don’t turn out like they should. But they’re only blocks.”
Still, we can’t quite accept that, can we? Those blocks, those tools, are all we have to work with. And we so wanted to build that thing we imagined…
And so God pats our back and says, “I know. And I want you to build it too. Let’s do it together, okay? Let me help you fix this problem right here…”
That might require undoing some of the other work we’ve done to get at the flaw. And we might cry a little more when we see that. But then he’ll fill the hole, line up the pegs, shift it all away from treacherous ground, and hand it back over.
And sometimes, we might greet his aid with a new tantrum and toss it all aside. But most of the time, I hope, we learn from him. We see where we went wrong. And we smile up into our Father’s eyes and say, “Thanks, Abba.”
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| A Lego model of Trafalgar Square, London |
Because even if it’s only blocks, he still cares. He still claps when we create a masterpiece, he still feels our pain with us when it doesn’t turn out right. He still helps us perfect it, and then pats us on the back in paternal pride. Toiling at it is still something he wants us to do.
But let’s remember what it is we’re working with. And whose advice we should take while we’re building away. He’s got a better vantage point up there than we do here at eye-level. And a whole lot more experience with fitting those blocks together.
by Roseanna White | Jan 24, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
For some reason that I can’t quite explain, 4-year-old Rowyn has decided that Heaven = Outer Space. There is no hesitation in his mind. When he talks about going to Outer Space, it’s to drop in on God and say, “Hello.” Preferably in a rocket. That, he says, is where he will go when he dies to live again forever.
Who am I, mere mortal that I am, to try to straighten it all out for him? LOL. The book of Daniel tells us about angels on a physical journey from Heaven to Earth, waylaid by demons so that they arrived seemingly “late” to answer the prayers of the faithful. For all I know, those demons were hiding behind an asteroid orbiting Jupiter. *shrugs*
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The Milky Way over the
West Virginia hills |
But it came up in my little brain in response to some wonderful conversations and books I was reading yesterday. The conversations joked about how the particular group involved is made of black sheep, it seems. Or at least, would be dubbed so by a prominent few. We like reality in our fiction. We believe that redemption is greatest when the sin was staggering–after all, who will love the forgiver more, he who is forgiven much or little? We believe in thinking, in living our life in this world even if we’re not of it, in refusing the neatly bottled answers that are often tossed around in Christian circles.
And yes, that leads some of us to rant and rail on occasion. Why, we ask, do our brothers and sisters in the Church judge us for following Him into the wilderness? Isn’t that where He went? Where He ordered us to go??
Then, in something I was reading by my good friend and WhiteFire author
Christine Lindsay, she quotes C. S. Lewis, and it resonated:
“
It
would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too
weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex
and ambition when infinite Joy is offered us, like an ignorant child
who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot
imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are
far too easily pleased.”
You know what that hammered home to me? That we’re so very small. Sometimes, that makes us petty. Sometimes, that makes us close ourselves into a cozy little box. Sometimes it makes us judge–and I’m not talking just about the ones in the box judging those outside, I’m talking about the opposite too. We all want to be accepted for who we are–and when someone else is different, we feel that as judgment. Don’t we?
But what Lewis pinpointed so beautifully there is that God is bigger than that. God is a God of the biggest dreams, the grandest ideas. He’s a thinking man’s God and an infantile-minded man’s God. The God of the broken and of the fixer. He’s a God who says, “You want the world? Foolish mortal–I’m offering you heaven.”
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The Dirty Devil River
photo by Seth G. Cowdery |
Or as Rowyn would say, Outer Space. 😉 And that’s true too, isn’t it? He’s the God of the universe, of the infinite.
But how often do we forget that, as Pascal expounded on in a Pensee, the infinite goes both directions? The infinitely great, and the infinitely small. So often, we pick one direction and focus on that, because that’s where our interests lie.
I love–absolutely love–that I serve a God with no limits. A God who can touch hearts through the sweetest stories as well as through the grittiest. A God who doesn’t say we must change before we can enter His house, but who invites us in as we are and says, “I’ve been waiting for you. I have a job for you to do, and those quirks of yours will make you a perfect fit.”
I don’t know about you, but I serve one amazing, all-out, no-holds-barred God. He meets me in the grime, and He promises me the galaxies. He tells me that there’s nothing I can dream that’s too big…but that sometimes He wants to give me something even bigger than the corporeal, than the physical. He’s a God who says, “Go ahead. Reason. Ask questions. Explore the what-ifs. I’ll be there too.”
So for today, in all gratefulness, I say, “My God, who art in Outer Space, I set your name aside as holy. Establish your kingdom, and do your will, O Lord. Not just up in the stars…but right down here in the muck.”
by Roseanna White | Jan 17, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
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| Lay thy sweet hand in mine and trust in me by Edmund Blair Leighton |
Sometimes I think the world inside my head is a very strange place. Full of double-think and a pendulum of balance I knowingly employ to keep myself cheerful. A fair amount of rationalization when it comes to exercise and indulging in chocolate, and a strange collection of hope and fear.
All that comes into play at this point in the game with a book releasing. I so love
Ring of Secrets, I so believe in its message. Of all the books I’ve written, this is the only one that I not only loved but about which I felt a perfect confidence. I knew this book would find a home. I didn’t know for sure where, but I thought Harvest would take it. So when they did, in additional to the excitement, there was this great, peaceful, “
Yes.” Yes, this is right. This is where it’s supposed to be, and it’s going to do what it’s supposed to do.
But with the book a month away from release, the thoughts are bashing about in my brain. I have such hopes for it…but what if it flops? Harvest House has put so much faith and effort into me…but what if I disappoint them? I so adore this book…but what if others don’t?
I’ll admit it–I crave the validation of praise. I try not to, and I don’t define myself by it. I will always write, as long as I’m able and God permits, and if all the world tells me I stink, then I’ll write anyway. Maybe I’ll change the what or the how, but I am a writer. But those words of encouragement from readers? Those keep me going. And occasionally words of harsh criticism have been known to derail me for a day or two.
So I’ve been biting my nails lately. And the reviews have started coming in from advance readers. Mostly good. Nothing proclaiming it the best book ever or anything. And then yesterday, my first bad review of it. Three stars. Sigh.
I was pretty proud of myself for shrugging it off, but it niggled here and there through the night. But not because of the review itself…more because a good review from this same source on
Annapolis I had grasped hold of firmly. I grinned and laughed over it. I touted it. And now, with a bad review from the same outlet, I’m perfectly fine with shrugging it off and saying, “What does it matter? It’s just one reviewer.”
To some, this no doubt seems hypocritical. Perhaps slightly unhinged, LOL. But let me explain.
I’m doing what I have to do. What I’m called to do. It’s a ministry for me. While I know that my books aren’t the end-all-be-all, aren’t Shakespeare or Austen, likely won’t top any charts, I also know that I’ve written them for a reason. And that I have other stories to write for their own reasons. I have, now, commitments and obligations to fulfill. Contracts. Deadlines. I have to write.
And so, I have to feed my spirit. With prayer, with the Word…and with the encouragement of my brothers and sisters of the Church. I have to focus on the good. And I have to push aside the bad, the insecurities. Not criticism that help me grow, but that which just tears down? Out the window it goes.
I have to trust that whatever this book does, what any of my books do, it’s okay. I have to remember that it’s not about sales or reviews or awards or acclaim or royalty checks. It’s about obeying. Listening. And most of all, loving. Loving my Lord enough to write what books He lays on my heart. And loving you enough to risk insecurity and disappointment enough to put my work out there.
by Roseanna White | Jan 10, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
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| Waiting by Edmund Blair Leighton |
My kids are big on holidays (so unusual for a child, I know, LOL). The day after Christmas, they asked, “What holiday’s next?” And the same question came on January 2. Several times we’ve played the Holiday Hop game, naming which comes after which. Sometimes I think that if they could, they’d just skip from one special day to the next. New Year’s to Valentine’s to St. Patrick’s Day to Easter, and so on.
I remember being the same way as a kid–especially a growing kid looking for those days off school. 😉 And you know, there’s nothing wrong with that. The Lord instituting Holy Days, after all. As celebration, as remembrances, and a way to look ahead. Just like He made the Sabbath for our rest. He knew we needed those breaks, those things to look forward to.
In a lot of ways, it’s like a book’s plot. When I’m sitting down to start a new book, I usually try to have the big points figured out–kinda like the holidays. There will be major turns at B, E, and H, say. Minor ones at A, C, and F. But a wise friend of mine once said that the real story was like an Oreo–it happens in the middle.
Life’s the same way. Christmas was a lot of fun around here. But you know what was more fun? The day after, when we got an unscheduled 8 inches of snow. When we all went to play in it, to sled ride, to spend time as a family that wasn’t pre-planned. My best memories from being a kid aren’t just the Big Days–it’s the little days. It’s following behind my dad while he raked the lawn after mowing, tossing on dandelions and leaves onto his pile and pretending it was a salad for a giant. It’s passing the summers in the pool with my mom and sister and neighbor.
So often, we’re so busy that it’s easy to put off the special things for the special days. To say “Sure we’ll do that…on our next break. The next holiday. The next…”
But if you’re anything like me, it’s the unanticipated fun, the unexpected Big Days that build the best memories, that make for the best laughter, the best stories. As we head into the new year, you can bet I’m going to be looking forward the holidays with my kids, sure–but what I’m really going to be looking forward to, what I’m going to make a big effort to appreciate, are the days in between. The normal days. The days when you’re just waiting to get through the school day, to the weekend, to the next event.
by Roseanna White | Jan 3, 2013 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
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| Little Girl in a Blue Armchair by Mary Cassatt, 1878 |
Though this isn’t exactly the insightful post I’d hoped to start the new year with, it’s a necessary one.
Yesterday I got a call from one of the ladies in my Bible study group. We have a couples group that meets every Friday–the adults do the study, and our kids play upstairs. For the eight adults, there are approximately, oh, a gazillion kids. 😉 Okay, so 11. Lots of enthusiasm there, and we’re all so glad to be building relationships for and with our precious little ones.
One of the kids from this group is 8-year-old Hailey. At our last study before Christmas break, her mom mentioned how Hailey’s balance had seemed off, though she’d been trying to hide it. Walking very slowly, and indulging in wobbles and railing-gripping only when she thought no one was looking. Then at our Christmas party, Mom mentioned how her pupils didn’t seem to be dilating correctly. No one else noticed this when she called Hailey over and kind of laughed it off.
Apparently Hailey has gone to the doctor a couple times since–the family was expecting this to be some kind of ear infection, to be causing balance issues. But yesterday a scan showed a growth at the base of her brain stem. A growth “four pencil-erasers high.” They’re not sure yet whether it’s a cyst or a tumor, benign or malignant. She goes in today for an MRI and tomorrow will travel to the Baltimore area to see a specialist at Johns Hopkins.
Please join me in praying for Hailey and her family. Her mom was, needless to say, panicked and terrified and far more than just “upset.” And as someone who has gotten to know this little girl a bit this fall, I just ache for them. Hailey is a girl with a big, golden heart, one who loves quickly and without restraint.
Father God, we beseech you now for Hailey and her family. Though we can’t always understand Your ways, we know they’re there. Though we are baffled and shaken when such illness strikes our little ones, we know that You love them more than we ever could. Father, our healer and provider, please touch Hailey. Strengthen her for the scans and appointments, breathe Your peace into her, and touch Your finger to this growth. Make it shrink, vanish, change in whatever way it must to be nothing. Heal her, Lord our God.
And wrap Your arms around her family, please. I know this is a family that loves You so much, and I know right now they’re crying out to You in agony. Soothe them. Embrace them. Help them to feel You in every scary moment throughout this ordeal. Hold them so close that they can’t for a moment forget Who is in control.
In the name of Your precious Son we pray. Amen.
by Roseanna White | Dec 13, 2012 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
This time of year, if you want a study in eagerness, all you have to do is take a look at children. Okay, if mine are the example, then looking at them anytime will give you a study in eagerness. =) At times, all that anticipatory energy can be exhausting. But sometimes, it can be so very inspiring, can’t it?
I love that kids can be just as excited about a day of service as they are about a birthday party. That reading a book to their younger sibling is as much a cause for celebration as a trip to the ice cream shop. I love that making their father a Christmas present is as awesome for them as opening one of their own.
I love that they take such
Joy from life–not just from the big things, but from the little. I love how they look forward to watching that new movie just as much the fifth time as the first. I love that they are always so eager for the things they love, no matter the work involved in getting them.
And I love that Jesus uses them as the example of how our faith should be.
I sometimes wonder when we lose that eagerness, that full-out
Joy. I’m sure I’ve wondered it here before. But as an adult, it’s so easy to worry too much to enjoy things. To look at things like Christmas cookie baking as a time-consuming must instead of anticipated fun. It’s easy to look at all the holiday activities and see only the minutes and hours adding up–and counting down–and get stressed wondering how to fit it all in. It’s easy to look at that gift you
want to get someone but can’t afford and feel disappointed.
And it’s so, so easy to forget to be eager about our faith. Sure, we talk about the Reason this time of year. But are we excited about it? Are we eager for Him every day of the year? Do we jump up and down for him morning after morning, like a four-year-old asking for his favorite breakfast?
This year, though I’m under deadline and anticipating a move and overall busier than usual this Christmas, I keep getting hit with this enormous gratitude for the enthusiasm of my children. It leaves me exhausted, but it reminds me of what matters. Of how I should be greeting the world. Of how I should be living my faith.
It reminds me of how my heart should be before the Lord–all-out, bubbling-over, squealing with delight joyful.
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.