by Roseanna White | Apr 28, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
I’m not a worrier. I am, in fact, convinced there’s a worry gene, and that my sister got it double strength, leaving me with a lack. And sometimes it definitely feels like a bad thing, this no-worrying. It makes me lax about things I should be on top of. I occasionally wonder if a serious issue would go too long without being noticed by laid-back me. Yeah, that’s right–sometimes I worry about not worrying. 😉
Last night I discovered something I do worry about, and worry about in spades. Brace yourself: the weather.
Yeah. (Sigh.) I get really worried about weather. To be precise, severe thunder storms.
Now, here’s the history. I was probably always a little scared of storms and such as a kid, but it got really bad when I turned six. There was a fire on the hill next door, on my birthday, and it gave me a real phobia about fire. And since I knew lightning strikes could cause fire . . .
I got over that. I even enjoy a healthy thunderstorm these days. Really, truly enjoy them. But now, apparently, I get pretty upset when they throw tornado warning/watches into the mix. At night. When I’m supposed to be sleeping, on the top floor of my house, with my kids on the main floor. (This fear started in high school, when graduation was canceled because of tornadoes that sent us all into the auditorium for a couple hours.)
For the second night in a row, we had those warnings. On Tuesday night when we switched over to the emergency broadcast thingy, a nice computerized voice was warning us that a system that “could” spawn tornadoes was spotted in Frostburg, moving east. Ahem–that would be toward my town, about fifteen miles away. The warning included “take cover immediately.”
Apparently those are magic words to make my latent worry-gene activate. Because I don’t think I relaxed until the warning expired at 9:37, and if David hadn’t stopped me, I would have had the kids out of bed and downstairs with us.
Now, that was for Tuesday, when the forecast just said “thunder storms,” no “severe” tacked on. Because they had reserved the “severe” warning for last night. And of course, the news was filled with man-killing tornadoes. We barely had clouds by the time we put the kids to bed last night, but yet again my TV was interrupted with tornado warnings. No rain or anything by the time I went to bed at 11, but I woke up when it started at 1:30.
And the worry kicked in. What if a tornado came while we were in bed? What warning would we have? Would the fire-siren go off? Was that it there?? No, wind. Just the wind. The really strong, gusty wind. And the thunder. And lightning. (Well, hey, at least I’m not scared of that anymore!) The kids were sleeping through it, which was good. But if there was a tornado, and we somehow had enough warning to get out of the top floor, would we have enough time to wake the kids? Could I run fast enough on my still-sore ankle?
Maybe we should all just camp out on the pull-out couch in the basement . . .
I prayed. And I prayed. I repeated like a mantra, “I trust you, Lord, I trust you, Lord, I trust you, Lord to take care of my family.” I listened to the thunder (which really wasn’t that bad. It’s kinda embarrassing how not severe this system was around here, considering my middle-night worry) and strained to hear the tell-tale signs of trouble.
At 2 I got up and checked the weather forecast, just to make sure there were no computerized voices telling me to take cover. The tornado warning was still in effect (is actually still in effect as I write this), but the computer now agreed that this storm wasn’t severe, just a storm. I felt a degree better. I went back to bed, told my hubby the update, and he said something along the lines of “Muh huh. Zzzzzz.”
I seriously don’t know how you midwesterners deal with this so often. Or maybe it’s because here in Maryland it’s not so common that I get so worked up. But as the storm moved off and I was jumping, now, at the silence (seriously, Roseanna? Now the quiet is making you nervous?? What do you think this is, the eye of a hurricane?), I put some consideration into worry and faith.
Here’s what I observed about myself. It’s easy to hide my worry when it doesn’t interfere with normal operations–like during the day, when I can just herd the kids downstairs to watch TV during a warning. And it’s easy to pray the right things, all the things I’ve been taught, in these circumstances. It’s not as easy to let go.
But you know what else? Trusting the Lord through our worry doesn’t always mean that we don’t worry. Sometimes we’re supposed to be worried enough to take care of ourselves and our families. This isn’t fretting, it’s responsibility. It’s okay that I was concerned about getting my kids to safety in the event of a tornado, okay that I was making a plan.
What wasn’t okay was that the worry was just as intense in the silence. But then I remembered that prophet (Elisha maybe?) who was running away from the evil queen, seeking the Lord. And He wasn’t in the tempest, and He wasn’t in the earthquake, and He wasn’t in any other fierce, terrible show . . . but He was in the whisper. As I considered that last night, I listened for the whisper. And my shoulders finally relaxed, I could smile at myself, and sleep took hold again.
This morning I woke up with a sore neck, sleepy eyes, and the conviction that even had an F5 ripped through the area like it did a decade ago, even if the worst had happened, the Lord would have been right there, taking care of us. Instead, He took care of us by doing exactly what I prayed and chasing the storm away. I reminded myself that it isn’t that the Lord isn’t present in the storms, the quakes, the violence . . . it’s more that we can’t hear His still, small voice until we quiet the rage within and listen.
Listen. Listen to the whisper.
I’ll probably always be afraid of tornadoes. That’s probably a fairly healthy fear, as fears go. I’ll probably wake up again when I know there’s a warning and be nervous. But you know what? Next time I don’t want to wait until the storm moves off to hear the whisper.
Next time, I’m going to find the whisper in the storm.
by Roseanna White | Apr 21, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Salvation. Something of the utmost importance to any believer, and of the utmost relevance as Easter nears. Turn on any contemporary Christian show and you’ll come across the phrase “to be saved.”
It’s become (dare I say so?) a cliche. Saved. It means you’re a Christian. Born again. Washed in the blood, and all that. Right? A matter of the soul. A decision. “I’m saved” means that you’ve made a decision to live for Christ.
But as I reread a chapter in Romans this week that uses that phrase, I had to stop and really ponder it. Saved. That’s a strong word. It doesn’t just connote a decision, it denotes being snatched from the jowls of destruction. Delivered from impending doom. That’s BIG.
I had to rethink the meaning and implication of our understanding of salvation as I wrote
Jewel of Persia this past year. Why? Because salvation was a very present, very important theme through much of the Old Testament, especially in the book of Esther. It’s totally about salvation–being saved from obliteration through the courage and faith of one Jewess who God had placed beside a king. That is literal, physical salvation.
I expounded on this theme throughout my book, making my heroine pray continually for salvation–to be saved from her enemies, from death, from intrigue, and from loss of faith. Again, literal, physical salvation. I even end the book with the line, “Our salvation is at hand.” Meaning number one being that the Jews were fighting back against the Persians who wanted to destroy them, yes, but I also wanted to look forward to Christian salvation with it.
Which is different, right? Salvation as we think of it now is a matter of the spiritual, not the “literal, physical.” Isn’t it?
I always thought so. But as I read Romans 10, I had to wonder. It’s obvious Paul is talking about high stakes here. His ultimate heart’s desire is that Israel be saved. Saved . . . from what? From eternal peril, yes. From their own ignorance, definitely. But what about the “literal, physical”? Has the word lost that meaning in this use?
Here’s the thing–it hadn’t. That’s why the use of it here must have been so striking, so ground-breaking. At the time, I’m betting that “saved” meant ONLY “deliverance.” As in, from a visible, impending threat. It was real. It was there. So when the writers of the New Testament suddenly applied this word that meant a literal saving from destruction to matters of the soul . . .
WOW. That’s quite a leap, isn’t it? That to a people whose Law was tied up in earthly punishments, earthly destruction or blessing, suddenly there is an ultimate salvation offered, not for one’s physical life only, but for something beyond. Something that addressed those inner issues that had begun to rise to the forefront of peoples’ minds.
These days, we’re taught the spiritual meanings of “saved” and “born again” at so early an age that we often fail to realize how revolutionary it was for Jesus and His followers to take something purely physical and apply it to that incarnate realm. And because we fail to realize that, I think we miss some of the power of it.
So as I enter the final days of Holy Week leading up to Resurrection Day this year, I’m going to be pondering how salvation is real, temporal, physical . . . and how that makes it all the more important that it’s also offered to my soul
by Roseanna White | Apr 14, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
My daughter has become extremely artistic, and very creative. I at once recognize this is the natural age for her to do this stuff and am just amazed by the things she thinks of. In part it’s because she comes up with things like this. After watching Minnie Mouse have a masquerade party, Xoe decided all her little toys needed to get dressed up in costumes. Not that she had anything in the store of Barbie clothes that would fit her animals, so she had to make her own.
I’m trying to remember if I ever came up with stuff like this. Probably, but it’s been a long time ago, LOL. For reference, these animals are, from left to right: a seahorse dressed as a painting, a pony dressed as a rainbow, a bunny dressed as a flower, a pony dressed as a pegasus, and a pony dressed as a unicorn.
Okay, that was purely just me sharing how cute it was. 😉 Here’s the purpose of my sharing.
In addition to this kind of crafty artistic ability Xoe’s discovering, she’s also constantly drawing. And I mean constantly. Ahem. Drawing on any paper she happens to be standing beside, without bothering to look and see if said paper should be drawn on. Drawing on tables. Drawing on bookshelves. Occasionally drawing on walls.
She didn’t do this when she was 2 or 3. Why in the world is she doing it now?? LOL.
It reminds me of how we can be as children of God. We get so excited when we find something we’re good at, something we know pleases our Father. Just like I walk through the house and grin to see Xoe’s latest masterpiece scribbled on the back of a page of my old notes, I imagine God smiles when He looks down and sees us making something beautiful out of the raw material He gives us.
But sometimes we get a little carried away and start drawing mountains on filing cabinets. Sometimes we scribble right over the words God put there to guide us. Sometimes we think that because God gave us an ability, it’s okay to use it anywhere, any time.
I’m having to teach Xoe all over again that drawing is good, but it has to be done on the right things.
Isn’t a lot of life the same way? We have gifts and talents that God has given us. We have callings He has put on us. But just because we’ve discovered those gifts doesn’t mean we can stop seeking Him as to how to use them, where to use them, when to use them.
I try to pray regularly that I am a good steward of the talents He has given me. There are probably times my enthusiasm leads me outside the lines, and God has to draw me back. But just like when I chastise Xoe for drawing on the wrong things, it’s with a hidden smile that she’s so enthused by something like this, I imagine God reacts the same way when we use our imaginations just a bit too much and have to be reined in. He’ll rein us because it’s necessary . . . but I have to think it’s with a hidden smile at how eager we are to use the gifts He gave us.
by Roseanna White | Apr 7, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
There I was, innocently putting Rowyn into the car at the library. Minding my own business, moving a bag out of the way so he could climb over to his seat. Doing it that way avoid him entering on the street-side.
Then, from out of nowhere, came a voice. My mother’s voice to be precise. I couldn’t tell you what she said–probably something along the lines of, “Bye! See you later!”
Acting on my carefully-hewn instinct, I swung my head around to find the source of the shout and became immediately aware of Xoe skipping up the sidewalk to give NanNan one more hug. Which my oh-so-sharp brain recognized as fine.
A fraction of a second before said brain was overwhelmed with, “Ouch! Darn it, what did I do now?!”
There was metal where it should not have been–at my mouth. Oh-so-sharp brain registered car door.
What in the world was my car door doing at my mouth??
Apparently when I turned my head, I, in my half-on-the-sidewalk/half-on-the-street stance, was at the perfect height for a door sandwich. Lovely.
Pain burst through my awareness, yes. The taste of blood stained my tongue. But more, as I reclaimed my mouth from that vicious door, was the accusation.
Great job, Roseanna. How’d you manage THAT? What if you knocked your teeth loose? Worse, what if you knocked your bridge loose? You obviously cut something. What? Was the door itself in your mouth? Why didn’t you pay attention to whether it was a through-the-lip or if you were smiling or something and it actually hit your gum?
Oh, golly, how are you going to explain to a doctor that you need a tetanus shot because of a cut on your GUM?
Meanwhile, Mom is running up demanding to know what happened, certain, from the look on my face, that I’m about to be sick.
No, no, I assure her. No nausea. Just overwhelmed at my own amazing klutziness.
Can she get me a drink of water to wash my mouth out?
Well now, that would be fine. Though when I swish and spit, the water isn’t tinged red or anything. No fountain of blood to be worth exclamation. The worry on Mom’s face fades to general concern as she inspects my war wound for me and says it looks okay. Asks if my teeth are okay.
I assure her they are, buckle the whining-in-worry Xoe into the car, and get behind the wheel. Naturally, I check the mirror. I can feel my lip swelling up already.
Except it doesn’t look swollen. And the bleeding’s already stopped, just looks a little red. And still tastes a little funny. And it doesn’t really hurt, just feels where there’s usually nothing to be felt.
All that for that?
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want it to be worse. But as I drove home, mentally composing my excuse for any police officer who happened to pull me over for going 47 in a 40 (I do this every single time I drive, LOL, though I’ve never been pulled over) it occurs to me that my excuse of “My lip’s swelling, my gum’s throbbing–no, not in pain, just throbbing–and I need some ice!” would only earn me an arched brow and perhaps a fine for lying. Sheesh. All that drama, and no visible proof!
So when I got home (without getting pulled over, I’d like to add), I grabbed an ice cube to hold to my not-swollen-though-it-felt-like-it lip, largely to elicit sympathy from my husband–who was on the phone and didn’t notice until I’d already chucked the ice cube. (Though he gave me ample sympathy afterward, when I told him of the vicious door attack.) I sent a whiny email to my best friend, and otherwise forgot about it.
Until later that night, when I was viciously attacked in the same spot by a toothbrush . . . 😉
by Roseanna White | Mar 31, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
This might sound like a strange blog post for someone who’s still jigging along one of life’s mountaintops, right? And in a way it is. But it’s something that’s come to mind from various sources this last week, so let’s see where it goes . . .
Two of my good friends have cancer–you may remember me mentioning that months ago. Both have been undergoing treatment and seeing results.
Both have just had setbacks.
I find it a little strange that though their stories are very different, Mary and Sandi seem to be coming up against things at nearly identical times. For Mary, whose cancer is in her leg, this latest setback is a broken femur, which has put her in incredible pain. For Sandi, who’s trying to get rid of a tumor and cancer in the bone marrow so she can get a bone marrow transplant, the setback was news that the tumor had stopped responding to chemo and had grown.
Not cool. And I can only the imagine the fear when you go into the hospital wondering, “What now? What’s wrong this time?” It stinks. It hurts. Because you’re already fighting so much, so hard, that to be told something isn’t working or went wrong . . . it could be devastating.
On a lesser scale, I’ve experienced this with my daughter lately. She has always, always, always shown her stress through sleep patterns–and interruptions of them. These past couple weeks, she has been a total monster when we put her to bed, and I had thought we were over that, so it was doubly frustrating. Then after a few nights of improvement, when she started to show signs of a fit again, I nearly banged my head into the wall. And why? She was still way better than she’d been.
But we want forward progress. Always, in everything, we want to stride forward. I think it’s probably part of our genetic makeup as humans, so it’s no big surprise when those setbacks bring us down. Make us question. Lead to a little hair-pulling. We don’t want to go back. Not to bad behavior, not to sad times, and certainly not to worse health.
I think (and this is pure speculation) that faith is probably lost more through the mountain of little things, those “minor” setbacks, than through the big disasters of life. The big things we know we have to handle with faith and grace. So we gather all our courage, all our strength, all our will, and say, “Let’s do this, Lord!” We’re certain He’s with us, even through the awful.
But when a few steps forward only send us slipping back, that’s when it’s so easy to ask, “I already gave it my all, Lord! Why this? Why more? Why?”
I don’t know about you, but I don’t often get answers to that question.
Yesterday I read Psalm 46, which is probably best known for verse 10: Be still, and know that I am God. For perhaps the first time, I paid attention to the context of that yesterday. The whole psalm is about how God is always there, God is our refuge. Is trouble thundering around you? He’s there. Is there a place of beauty and gladness? He’s there. See, look–wars come to an end. Bows and spears are broken. Chariots are burned. All those things with which we fight, where we might think our victory lies . . . He destroys them. Why?
Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!
The Lord of Hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our refuge.
Yesterday, those words said to me, “Stop fighting. Stop thinking you have to. When trouble comes, don’t grab your weapon. I am the one who casts those mountains into the sea, and I am the one who tells the battles the halt. I am ruler of this rockface that comes crashing down, and why would you not trust me? Did I not make a refuge for you from the very same rock?”
We question, and questioning can be good. But when the storms around us are louder than our praise, when the nations are raging and our shelter is moved, when forward slips into backward, sometimes we have to remember this from verse 6:
He uttered His voice, the earth melted.
With a single murmur from the Lord, all can change. Our part is to be still, to give it all to him. To trust. It’s not easy when we’re facing setbacks. But the God of the flood is also the God of the trickling leak.
We put our hands into His when trouble first strikes. Let’s be sure we only grip it the harder when the setbacks come.
by Roseanna White | Mar 24, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
I’ve been reading through the Psalms lately, which is my go-to place in the Bible when I’ve finished up another book and am not sure where I want to head next. I know they’re a go-to for many other people too, and the one I read today hammered home why.
David (and the other psalmists too, I’m sure, though I’ve been in his lately) is so real in the psalms. You can feel his heartache. You can hear the tremor of pain in his voice. You can smell the incense he sends wafting up in prayer. But more, you can taste the hope on his tongue.
Here’s a bit from Psalm 41, which I just read. (starting at verse 9)
Even my own familiar friend in whom I trusted,
Who ate my bread,
Has lifted up his heel against me.
But You, O Lord, be merciful to me, and raise me up,
That I may repay them.
By this I know that You are well pleased with me,
Because my enemy does not triumph over me.
As for me, You uphold me in my integrity,
And set me before Your face forever.
Blessed be the Lord God of Israel
From everlasting to everlasting!
Amen and Amen.
This is but one of many examples of what appeals to me about these songs. David had real, honest-to-goodness problems he’s dealing with here. A best friend that has turned against him. People trying to sully his name. In the verses above these, he says how his enemies want him to die and his name be blotted out forever–which gave me a big “Ha!” since he’s one of the most well-known men of all times!
David isn’t afraid to let loose those negative feelings, to cry out to God with the hurt and pain he feels. He utters words that could be considered whining, complaining, and bellyaching. I mean, yeah, sure, people were actually trying to kill him, LOL, but just looking at the words above–who hasn’t been in a position where a friend has turned against him? Who hasn’t felt as though his heart has been totally crushed by it?
It’s okay to share those feelings with God. He knows, He’s been there, and He cares. Go ahead, pour out all your aching complaints to Him! He won’t call you a whiner. 😉
But what I love about this psalmist is that he always, always, always goes back to the hope that’s to be found in the Lord. Always. He knew that no matter how bleak things seemed, God had his back. God blazed the path before him. God protected his flank. Sometimes the battle probably looked pretty dire, with the enemy closing in, but David knew that victory didn’t lie in telling his adversaries off–it lay in embracing the Lord.
He upholds our integrity. He sets us before His face. Who cares what the backstabbers are doing when the glory of the Lord’s before us?
I’m an eternal optimist, forever hopeful that good will come from bad. This is why I kept writing, writing, writing even when I kept getting rejection after rejection. I have twenty finished manuscripts in my computer. Twenty. Trust me, I came across some nay-sayers over the years. I heard from people who said it should only take so many years, or so many finished books . . . I even heard that the industry was in lockdown, and I simply wouldn’t sell, not because I wasn’t good enough, but because it just wasn’t going to happen.
But I hope in the Lord, trusting in him. And now I have a new contract that should be arriving any day, as well as a small company of our own that’s suddenly growing in amazing ways. Have I “made it”? Um . . . do you ever? LOL. But it’s reassurance that I am indeed on the right path. Right where He wants me to be.
God is good. He has set me before His face. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting! Amen and amen.
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.