Tag: parenting

Through the Waters | Deeply Rooted Blog

I had read books about childbirth, books that described contractions as “waves”—manageable ones, if you had the right attitude—and birth as a warm, glowy experience best concluded with champagne.

But when I went into labor with my first daughter, I felt no glow of incoming life, just the repeated beating of city-high waves that, from the beginning, thundered over me without a break between them. My tiny boat of coping techniques promptly capsized; I couldn’t think or breathe. After ten hours of pummeling, the doctor handed me some papers, said something to my husband who tried to translate it for me (but I was underwater and couldn’t hear him) and then: the OR. An unexpected c-section. Lots of light, but not the kind mentioned in the books. Our baby’s face as a nurse on her way to the NICU held her up for me to see.

Birth stopped being something I did, and became a thing that happened to me. It required, in the end, not strength but surrender.

And so, I would learn every day afterward, does motherhood.

My first daughter was born on Mother’s Day. This week, as we celebrate her ninth birthday, I got to celebrate my entrance to motherhood by writing a piece for Deeply Rooted on becoming a mother and being one.

You can read the full article here.

Whatever is Pure and Lovely | Story Warren

So. I spent a year writing two different articles—two very different articles. I spent a year tinkering with one of them, altering this sentence and then that one, cutting passages and pasting them elsewhere or—in a burst of spontaneity—deleting them altogether.

The other arrived half-complete: in a single morning, I wrote a promising opening, but no ending. Nothing for months, no matter how many times I opened my draft, stared at the blinking cursor and thought my thoughts.

And then I grew a baby, which meant I spent a lot of time sleeping. I had the baby, which meant I spent a lot of time not sleeping but not writing either.

But a few months ago, I opened the one article, dusted it off, cut or rearranged a few more lines.

I opened the other and, in a sudden gust, wrote the missing last half. In a single morning, they were both done. I sent them off, washing my hands of them in two clicks of the Send button, and did not see them again until this week, when they appeared on separate sites within days of each other.

Of course that makes me happy. It always does, when the words I shuffle around each morning go off into the world to connect with readers. But this piece, the second article, is especially dear to me. It’s a quirky one, a story that seemed just right. I don’t entirely understand it myself and there’s something about that that seems fitting. I hope you enjoy it too:

At 9:30, my daughter comes downstairs—she can’t sleep. She’ll be seven next month and the world is expanding around her, I can see it. She’s more aware of other people now, more aware of adult conversation, more aware, in this instance, of volcanoes.

“Volcanoes?” I repeat, settling down next to her on the couch. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m just worried about them. I read about them in class today and I . . . “. I know that she sees it clearly, whatever she read that day, as real to her as I am. A definite fear shapes the set of her mouth and she gives into it for a moment before drawing away and finishing lamely, “I’m just worried about them.”

I want to offer her comfort—immediate, tangible comfort—in the shape of a promise. They’re far away. We don’t have to worry about that here. Things like that don’t happen anymore. Or the great silence-killing assurance, “It’s okay.”

But I can’t say any of that.

You can read the rest of the article here.


Whatever is Pure and Lovely
Théa Rosenburg, Story Warren

The Candle of Prophecy | Deeply Rooted

Advent usually sneaks up on me, stealthy in its own way, but this year I got the jump on it. I have a writing deadline to thank for that.

Some writers work well under pressure, but I don’t. I am a slow and steady sort of girl, a write and rewrite and rewrite and tinker and put it down for a few weeks and then come back and rewrite some more sort of girl. I am the sort of girl who can spend a year (yes, a year) on one article. I know that now.

But Lindsay Cournia and I are taking turns looking into each of the candles on the Advent wreath as part of a series for the Deeply Rooted blog, and researching a post on the Old Testament prophecies of Christ, it turns out, is a lovely way to prepare for the season. The first post, “The Candle of Prophecy,” went up this week, with more to follow throughout Advent.

Jesus’ birth in the manger was not a sudden impulse of God’s. He did not decide, on a whim, to send his Son to earth, but laid the ground for his coming painstakingly, over the course of thousands of years. Like a skilled author, God foreshadowed Christ’s coming through promises, covenants, and prophets, so those with eyes to see might recognize, in that one small child, the beginning of the end of God’s enemy—the first stitches in the mending of our broken world. As we light the first candle of Advent, we look back at the long history between the Lord and his people, the Israelites, as he prepared them for the coming of his Son. . . .

I hope you enjoy the series and that the posts feed you half as much good, Old Testament food as they did me as I prepared to write them.


Also, the new issue of Deeply Rooted is on sale now! I had the immense pleasure of interviewing Plumb for this issue, as well as writing a giant article on parenting philosophies and Scripture (that’s the one that took a year to nail down). I don’t have my copy yet or I’d share photos, but I know that Jen Wilkin has a beautiful piece in it (but then, her writing just is beautiful), and that the issue is filled, as ever, with articles rich in theology and practical help. Also, copies of Deeply Rooted make great Christmas gifts . . .


The Candle of Prophecy
Théa Rosenburg, Deeply Rooted blog (Nov. 2015)

Deeply Rooted Magazine
Issue 8: Love (Winter 2015)

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

Why I Love the Read-Aloud Revival Podcast

I recently discovered Read-Aloud Revival (through Aslan’s Library, of course) and after listening to an episode or two was smitten. “I’ve found my people!” I told Mitch over dinner. He then pointed out that he was my people, as were the three little people around the table. Fair point.

So I found my other people, the bookish ones, the ones to whom phrases like “build your family culture around books” serve as rallying cries and who read poetry at lunch and read books about reading books. I found those people. And I love them.

What is Read-Aloud Revival? It’s a podcast about reading aloud to your kids. But wait—I can hear your skepticism brewing. How can someone devote a single hour-long episode to talking about reading aloud, let alone several episodes? What could there possibly be to talk about?

Read Aloud Revival: A podcast worth listening to! | Little Book, Big Story

Oh, my friend. There is so much to talk about. How do you choose books for your family? How do you discuss books with your kids? How do you read to toddlers or nuture your child’s imagination or read poetry to your kids? How do you introduce them to Shakespeare? How do you read aloud well, for that matter? Do you do voices or accents?

And what about the parents who don’t enjoy reading aloud but still want to nurture that part of their child that is fed by good books?

Read Aloud Revival: A podcast worth listening to! | Little Book, Big Story

If any of those questions hit that soft spot in your heart that brings you back to this blog more than once, then I think you’ll love Sarah MacKenzie’s podcast. Sarah MacKenzie is the charming host of Read-Aloud Revival, the one who has such engaging conversations with her guests that I find myself, at the end of each episode, wanting the conversation to go on for just a little bit longer.

Some podcasts are great for listening to while I cook dinner, when the kids are up and running amok, but not this one: this is the treat that I save for myself, the one that I listen to on the front porch during nap time, sketchbook open, paintbrush in hand. (My logic: if my hands are busy while I listen I’m less likely to impulsively purchase every other book mentioned on the program.)


Read-Aloud Revival (podcast)
Sarah MacKenzie