Tag: deeply rooted blog

The Savior and the Saved | Deeply Rooted Blog

On Easter Sunday when I was 17, one thought appeared unbidden and would not be chased away: Maybe I’ll pray this morning. I attended church only by parental decree. I wore knee-high Doc Martens and crimson hair in protest and sat through the pastor’s prayers with my eyes boldly open, head unbowed. I did not pray. But:

Maybe I’ll pray this morning.

There is nothing dramatic in my story—no brutal addiction, no “rock bottom,” no conversion in the backseat of a police cruiser—unless you consider the fact that the Creator of the universe unlocked some hidden chamber in the heart of a hurting girl and sowed there one thought, Maybe I’ll pray this morning, and from that seed sprung the sapling that buckled the sidewalk, shattered the concrete, and is still growing.

There was an altar call at the strip mall church that morning, and at the front of the sanctuary I knelt, with damp mascara and a half dozen others, and I prayed: God forgive me. The Lord lifted the glass dome off what I thought was the world and in rushed the dizzying winds of heaven. In rushed a new thought: God exists and he is not cruel or indifferent, but he loves me. I held that thought tenderly, the way one might hold a bird.

Seventeen years ago tomorrow, I came to faith. Mine was not a flashy conversion, but one that left me reeling, as though I’d skeptically tapped the back of a wardrobe only to find that it led to Narnia. I got to share that story alongside the story of Easter in a post for the Deeply Rooted blog.

You can read the full post here.

Happy Easter, dear ones!

To Dust You Shall Return | Deeply Rooted Blog

Ash Wednesday admits the dark into an otherwise well-lit space. We dim the lights—no, we shut them off. And in their place, we light candles, but around the candles’ contained glow is shadow. That shadow alters familiar faces, draws us near to one another in a ring around our pastor and around the table that ordinarily holds the bread and the wine. Today that table holds candles, a cross, and a small dish of ashes.

Those ashes wait as we read the liturgy. They wait as we sing hymns, somber ones in minor keys. They wait until our pastor takes them up and calls us to him, pronouncing ancient words over each of us as we move toward him in single file. We lower our eyes as he says them, and we remember who we are:

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

He then marks our foreheads with ash, drawn on in the shape of a cross.

Yesterday, my post about Ash Wednesday went up on the Deeply Rooted blog. You can read it in full here.

An Interview (and Giveaway) with Dana Dirksen of Songs for Saplings

I have gone on and on at length here about Dana Dirksen and Songs for Saplings, and now I’ve been given the opportunity to go on at length about her music somewhere else: today on the Deeply Rooted blog, you can read my interview with Dana and find out more about how Songs for Saplings began and what they’re doing now.

You can also enter to win a Songs for Saplings Family Journal, as well as one of six full sets of the Questions With Answers physical CDs! Even if you don’t win, Songs for Saplings has offered a special coupon code so you can download the first three albums in the series for free, just for reading the interview.

Questions With Answers, by Dana Dirksen: music and theology for families | Little Book, Big Story

Really, you have nothing to gain by sticking around here. Go read the interview.

Gloria Furman on the Deeply Rooted Blog

I had the privilege of interviewing Gloria Furman, author of Glimpses of Grace and Treasuring Christ When Your Hands are Full (among others), for the Deeply Rooted blog! While writing a review of Glimpses of Grace and preparing to interview her, I really got to bond with Gloria Furman’s books—and that’s an experience I recommend. Her answers to the interview questions are just as lovely and life-giving as her books. You can read the interview here.

Glimpses of Grace, by Gloria Furman | Little Book, Big Story

A Letter to My Daughter About Beauty | Deeply Rooted Magazine

Some essays start as a note scribbled in the margin of my grocery list; others arrive as a complete draft, written swiftly and sloppily on the pages of my composition book. But a few begin as entries in the notebooks I keep for my daughters, like the essay that appeared on the Deeply Rooted blog yesterday.

A Letter to My Daughter About Beauty (Thea Rosenburg on the Deeply Rooted blog) | Little Book, Big Story

There are certain things that I wish I could tell you, but I suspect that they are the sort of things that you will have to learn for yourself—the sort of lessons that stick better when they come after years of struggle. Perhaps there is something in the struggle that is important, I don’t know. But here is one of them: you are beautiful.

And so on.

I’m so happy that the post went up on Mother’s Day, because that is the day I became a mom—the day that my first daughter was born. We’re celebrating her birthday today with two dozen mint chocolate cupcakes that we can’t take to school because she’s home sick with a fever, so if you want a cupcake and don’t mind risking a fever, you know who to visit. But if you’d rather not risk the fever and still want something sweet, then the essay is probably a safer bet.


A Letter to My Daughter About Beauty
Théa Rosenburg, Deeply Rooted blog

At the Threshold of the Day | Deeply Rooted

This week—the last week of my summer vacation—I get to share my favorite post from elsewhere with you (favorite, because I’m hugely biased and not at all humble).

You see, Deeply Rooted has accepted a handful of my pieces for publication either in the magazine or on the blog, and the first one went up this morning, so while we celebrate the very last day of summer vacation by going all Jackson Pollock on a bedsheet (and the garden, and the yard, and the lawn chairs), you can pop over to Deeply Rooted and read my piece about early mornings, Earl Grey tea, and starting the day with my husband.

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