A time of crisis presents a good opportunity to identify the foundation on which I construct my life. If I place my ultimate trust in financial security, or in the government’s ability to solve my problems, I will surely watch the house crumble. (And the foolish man’s house went “splat!”)
— Philip Yancey, Grace Notes, p. 94
One thing we’ve all learned along the way is that reinvention seems always to require some painful elements of rejection and tearing down. But as we change, so do all things change. To hold on tight is to miss out on opportunities for growth and movement. Letting go, stepping forward into the unknown, we discover our capacities for resilience and faith, and we begin to glimpse our unique potential, to realize it in ways we couldn’t have begun to imagine just a short time ago.
— Katrina Kenison, The Gift of an Ordinary Day, p. 172
This is, after all, a love story.
Why else would love be the deepest yearning of our hearts?
Isn’t love the greatest joy of human existence? And the loss of love our greatest sorrow? Do not the two great commands confirm this? “Love the Lord your God with all your heart . . . and your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:27). Love, for this is your destiny. Love God, and love each other. The banners that fly over God’s kingdom are the banners of love. It’s not about Bible study and faithful church attendance, not even dutiful marriage. Take the heart out of all that and it will absolutely kill you. This story is meant to be a passionate love affair. “I have loved you,” God says, “with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness” (Jeremiah 31:3).
We live in a love story, a romance written before the foundations of the earth. Aren’t the most impassioned pleas of the Bible directed toward love?
— John and Stasi Eldredge, Love & War, p. 27
The inner tale transforms by reorienting us to new truth and insight, breaking open the hidden holy that dwells in our experience. The word story actually means “to know.” In the act of creating story there is always an event of coming to know. God surprises us with glimpses and truths we did not grasp until we tried to tell the story. As we shape the experience, an “aha!” emerges, a revelation.
— Sue Monk Kidd, Firstlight, p. 19
The search for happiness is a spiritual quest, but it’s a material quest, too. We want to find meaning and joy in this life on this earth. We can see that the prize we’re after might be considered selfish, but it isn’t a selfish happiness we want.
Happy people do not colonize land that already belongs to other people. They do not drop bombs, exploding lives and earth. Happy people do not lie to our face, stab us in the back, then scamper home muttering self-righteous justifications. . . .
Happiness may be uncool, but our refusal to be happy doesn’t make us more compassionate — it makes us mean.
— Ariel Gore, Bluebird: Women and the New Psychology of Happiness, p. 31
People who believe they’re victims get to be right. Each experience they have convinces them of that. They don’t open themselves to the lessons, the growth, and the beauty of each situation they encounter. All they can see is their victimization….
People who believe they have powers get to be right, too. Although we know there is much in life we can’t control, we also know we have the power to think, to feel, to choose, and to take responsibility for ourselves and our lives. We’re discovering our creative powers, and our power to love, including our power to love ourselves. We’ve embraced our power to grow, to change, to move forward. We know we have the power to claim our lives and take responsibility for ourselves in any situation life brings. Although life may deal us certain hard blows, we’ve learned to see beyond that. We see life’s beauty, gifts, and lessons, and its mysterious and sometimes magical nature.
On the road to freedom we may have made a stopover. We believed we were victims and we got to be right. Now, our journey has led us someplace else. We know we have powers; we know we have choices. And we no longer need to be right. Just free.
— Melody Beattie, Journey to the Heart, p. 36
All the painful and horrendous things I was imagining were not present, and I realized suddenly and completely that it was my thoughts — and only my thoughts — that were tormenting me. If I stopped my thoughts, the pain stopped. And so it had. For about nine seconds. Then it all came flooding back, although from that moment on I understood one very, very important thing, perhaps the most important of all: learning to work with the pain of a broken heart was about learning to work with thoughts, not about changing any kind of reality. Because in reality, right this second now, nothing is happening.
— Susan Piver, The Wisdom of a Broken Heart, p. 25
“Human being” is more a verb than a noun. Each of us is unfinished, a work in progress. Perhaps it would be most accurate to add the word “yet” to all our assessments of ourselves and each other. Jon has not learned compassion. . . yet. I have not developed courage. . . yet. It changes everything. I have seen the “yet” become real even at the very edge of life. If life is process, all judgments are provisional. We can’t judge something until it is finished. No one has won or lost until the race is over.
“Broken” may be only a stage in a process. A bud is not a broken rose. Only lifeless things are broken. Perhaps the unique process which is a human being is never over. Even at death.
— Rachel Naomi Remen, MD, Kitchen Table Wisdom, p. 223
There’s nothing but this moment. The past has gone and cannot be changed. The past is for us to learn from. No more. And the present? It’s to be lived to the full, every moment, one at a time. If I’m willing to be present, attentive and ready to learn, I can suck the juice out of every experience. Whether it feels good or bad, it always has something to teach me.
And the future? Well it isn’t here yet, is it, and if I dwell on it I’ll miss this moment and will never catch it again. I may think I can catch up, but I never can. Each moment I miss by worrying about the past or dreaming of the future robs me of the wonder and beauty of now….
Change is a constant. Nothing stays the same, but it can all get better. Even the experiences we don’t like are teaching us valuable lessons. Certainly I haven’t liked some of the changes in my life, and there’ve been times when I would have loved things to stay as they were. But that’s not what being alive is about. In the end it’s more comfortable and sensible to relax and allow change to occur with an open mind, welcoming whatever we can learn from it.
— Dr. Brenda Davies, Unlocking the Heart Chakra, p. 80-81
If you’re going through something in your life that isn’t what you planned, a transformation is at hand. While we might prefer to be transformed in the twinkling of an eye, it usually doesn’t happen that fast. It takes all the moments added together, and sometimes those moments go on and on. But one day when you least expect it — a phoenix rises from the ashes. That phoenix is you.
Some of us encounter a lot of pain. Some of us have less. If I could sit across from you right now, I’d look into your eyes and say these words to you: “I know you’ve been through a lot. But there’s a new cycle coming. You’re going to learn about joy.”
— Melody Beattie, More Language of Letting Go, p. 380