by Roseanna White | May 19, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Thanks to the wonders of Facebook, I think many of us get to connect with old friends we otherwise wouldn’t see, right? It can be super awesome to exchange even a few lines with a buddy from high school you haven’t spoken to in a decade. It is for me, anyway. =)
Yesterday was Brittney’s birthday–Brittney was my absolutely-without-a-doubt-best-friend from age 5 through about 14. We drifted apart a bit in high school–stayed friendly, but not inseparable by any means. Still, May 18th can’t roll around without me thinking of her. Thinking of all the fun we had over the years. The fashion showed, the magazine we made from photos glued with the decorative, neon-colored paints so popular in the late ’80s, the games of make-believe that kept us entertained for days on end.
I also just touched base with another girl from our middle school group, Melissa. Melissa took to calling me “Mom” in 8th grade, and my nickname for her was Mylissa. When I finished my first novel, she was at my house. And when I came into school the following Monday, she’d made me a card that said, “So proud of you, Mommy.”
These are a few of the girls that grew with me, whose friendships shaped me. Girls I rarely talk to, more rarely still manage to see . . . but who are often in my prayers.
As someone who married her high school sweetheart, it’s sometimes really sad to realize I never talk to my high school friends. For someone who emails her best friend (who she’s only met twice) several times a day, it’s baffling why I can’t keep in touch with these others.
It’s strange how different our lives are.
Brittney’s lived in New York, is now in Pittsburgh. She’s in marketing and is, when last I saw her, one of those statuesque, model-esque women who always look gorgeous with their yoga-inspired figures and impeccable fashion sense. Needless to say, I felt a bit dowdy when I last hugged her–I was six months pregnant with Rowyn and carrying Xoe on my hip.
Melissa, on the other hand, lives out in the country, within driving distance of me, but I couldn’t tell you how to get to her house, LOL. She has four kids and helps her husband run his construction company. One of the last times I saw her was at her wedding, when she and her husband (each having a daughter already), pledged their lives and joined their families. It’s the only wedding I ever cried at, so beautiful was it when her little girl pointed at the bride coming up the aisle and declared happily, “Mama!”
Ever wonder what these old friends see if they look at you? I do. Yes, I’ve fulfilled my goal of being an author–more or less, LOL. I have books out . . . on a small scale. I have a big(ish) contract . . . but it’s not out. And even when it is, it’s just one book. I’m not a household name. I doubt I’ll ever be a household name. My house is old and not exactly breathtaking. I could probably make it nicer, but I choose to spend my energy writing. And homeschooling. I like to think I put myself together pretty well, but let’s be honest–no flat, yoga bellies here. I generally come to the conclusion that “slender” is good enough, since I don’t have to work for it. “Fit” just takes too much work, LOL.
But most of all, I hope that when I see these old friends again, they see the Annie they loved. They see a girl who chased her dreams. They see a woman glad she made the decisions she made, who loves her life even when it isn’t glamorous or hugely successful. I hope they see the same thing I do–a woman who has been shaped by great childhood friends into an adult worth knowing.
How about you guys? Do you still keep in touch with your very first best friends?
by Roseanna White | May 12, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
As I’m doing some basic research for a new story idea, I wanted to figure out what my heroine would call the Lord. She comes from a congregationalist, rather Puritan background, so I started by looking up Puritan prayers. And wow, am I glad I did.
These prayers are so beautiful that I copied them into a document and broke them into lines and stanzas as if they were poetry. Reading through them like this . . . it really showcases the perfection of faith, how it combines our weakness with His strength. I was so very blessed by these yesterday that I wanted to share these two with you today.
Also, the Colonial Quill is sharing first lines of stories today, if you want to check it out!
The Deeps
Lord Jesus, give me a deeper repentance,
a horror of sin, a dread of its approach.
Help me chastely to flee it
and jealously to resolve that my heart shall be Thine alone.
Give me a deeper trust, that I may lose myself
to find myself in Thee,
the ground of my rest, the spring of my being.
Give me a deeper knowledge of Thyself
as saviour, master, lord, and king.
Give me deeper power in private prayer,
more sweetness in Thy Word,
more steadfast grip on its truth.
Give me deeper holiness in speech, thought, action,
and let me not seek moral virtue apart from Thee.
Plough deep in me, great Lord, heavenly husbandman,
that my being may be a tilled field,
the roots of grace spreading far and wide,
until Thou alone art seen in me,
Thy beauty golden like summer harvest,
Thy fruitfulness as autumn plenty.
I have no master but Thee, no law but Thy will,
no delight but Thyself, no wealth but that Thou givest,
no good but that Thou blessest, no peace but that Thou bestowest.
I am nothing but that Thou makest me.
I have nothing but that I receive from Thee.
I can be nothing but that grace adorns me.
Quarry me deep, dear Lord, and then fill me
to overflowing with living water.
Devotion
God of my end, it is my greatest, noblest pleasure
to be acquainted with Thee
and with my rational, immortal soul;
it is sweet and entertaining to look into my being
when all my powers and passions
are united and engaged in pursuit of Thee,
when my soul longs and passionately breathes
after conformity to Thee and the full enjoyment of Thee;
no hours pass away with so much pleasure
as those spent in communion with Thee
and with my heart.
O how desirable, how profitable to the Christian life
is a spirit of holy watchfulness and godly jealousy over myself
when my soul is afraid of nothing
except grieving and offending Thee,
the blessed God, my Father and friend,
whom I then love and long to please,
rather than be happy in myself!
Knowing, as I do, that this is the pious temper,
worthy of the highest ambition,
and closest pursuit of intelligent creatures and holy Christians,
may my Joy derive from glorifying and delighting Thee.
I long to fill all my time for Thee,
whether at home or in the way;
to place all my concerns in Thy hands;
to be entirely at Thy disposal,
having no will or interest of my own.
Help me to live to Thee for ever,
to make Thee my last and only end,
so that I may never more in one instance
love my sinful self.
by Roseanna White | May 5, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Happy Cinqo de Mayo, everyone! We’ll be having enchiladas and arroz con leche tonight. (Homeschool, you know. It’s educational, LOL.) Now onto the actual blog. 😉
Last night I had the honor of visiting the women’s group at Trinity Assembly of God in Midlothian, Maryland to chat about being an author and a little about my books. One of my mother-in-law’s good friends belongs to this group and put a bug in the leader’s ear about inviting me, and I’m so glad she did.
I’ve spoken at libraries twice, and in some ways this was a lot like those. But in a few key ways, it wasn’t. Because though I’d never met these women before, it was like meeting friends. Chatting with them was like chatting with family you hadn’t seen in a while. We had so much fun, they made me feel so welcome, and as I tried to pinpoint why, I came to the conclusion that it’s because we know from the get-go we have a lot in common, starting with that most basic thing–our faith.
At the Library talks I certainly didn’t sidestep the fact that I write Biblical fiction, but the questions people asked tended to point in other directions. At Trinity last night, so much conversation either led back to the Lord or reflected Him. Not always overtly, but it was there. Always there, because He is always in us.
It really hammered home why Paul tells us not to forsake the fellowship of other believers. That fellowship, that communion is so awesome, and so important. Not just in church itself–which is also awesome and important, don’t get me wrong–but in those after-church meetings. Those times when like-minded folks get together for fun and just let the Lord
Shine through them.
This is the same reason I so enjoy going to Christian writers conferences, now that I think about it. It’s a chance to talk to other people who are like-minded. And hence why I’m so looking forward to going to Hagerstown, Maryland on Saturday for the Washington County Reading Day at the Valley Mall. There I’ll get to chat with a couple other fellow Christian writers, and I’m really looking forward to that (whether I sell any books or not, LOL).
So what’s your favorite time of fellowship? At church? A Bible study? A writers group? Perhaps at a Jane Austen readers group? A homeschool group? Where is it you feel most at home and can have fun that fills you up inside?
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.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. Having successfully launched two homeschool grads, she now spends her time writing fiction, 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, as well as a fantasy series and contemporary mysteries and romances. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.