It’s a good thing to have all props pulled out from under us occasionally. It gives us some sense of what is rock under our feet, and what is sand. It stops us from taking anything for granted.
— Madeleine L’Engle, The Summer of the Great-Grandmother, quoted in Glimpses of Grace, compiled by Carole F. Chase, p. 104
When my children were young, they loved brightly colored helium balloons. But sometimes either accidentally or purposely, they’d let go of the string. There they’d stand, with tears in their eyes, watching their precious balloon fly high into the heavens until it disappeared from sight.
When that happened, I’d tell them a story.
“Don’t cry,” I’d say. “God’s up there. And you know what? He catches every balloon you let go of. He’s keeping all of them just for you. Someday, when you get to heaven, you’ll get every one back.”
My children are older now; so am I. But we still believe God’s saving our balloons for us.
And I believe God catches all our balloons too — each one we let go of. Only we don’t have to wait until we get to heaven to get them back. The best and most perfect of our balloons, the ones just right for us, He gives back as soon as we’re ready to accept them. Sometimes, He gives back better ones than we let go of.
— Melody Beattie, Beyond Codependency, p. 243
Frankly, I think it’s time we take a page out of their book. The next time a guy you have a remote interest in fails to call you when he says he will, do not ponder the potential whys and wherefores of the situation. If at all possible, be so busy with your own wonderful life that you simply don’t even notice he hasn’t called. It would be great if you could just be so involved having a Big Time with all the people in your life who do right that if in fact he does call at some point, it takes you a minute to remember who he is.
— Jill Conner Browne, The Sweet Potato Queens’ Field Guide to Men, p. 195
My faith in God, who is eternally loving and constant even as my understanding grows and changes, makes life not only worth living, but gives me the courage to dare to disturb the universe when that is what el calls me to do. Sometimes simply being open, refusing to settle for finite answers, disturbs the universe. Questions are disturbing, especially those which may threaten our traditions, our institutions, our security. But questions never threaten the living God, who is constantly calling us, and who affirms for us that love is stronger than hate, blessing stronger than cursing.
— Madeleine L’Engle, Stone for a Pillow, p. 140, quoted in Glimpses of Grace, compiled by Carole F. Chase
“But of course!” said the Spirit, shining with love and mirth so that my eyes were dazzled. “That’s what we all find when we reach this country. We’ve all been wrong! That’s the great joke. There’s no need to go on pretending one was right! After that we begin living.”
— from The Great Divorce, by C. S. Lewis
For the Christian who has embraced God’s sovereignty, the choice is God’s; and the result, whatever that choice may be, is rejoicing. In Him is our joy and peace. If He gives marriage, then in marriage we rejoice. If He gives singleness, we rejoice in singleness. In whatever state we are, we know contentment.
— Margaret Clarkson, So You’re Single, p. 117
What is more (and I can hardly find words to tell you how important I think this), it is just the people who are ready to submit to the loss of the thrill and settle down to sober interest, who are then most likely to meet new thrills in some quite different direction. The man who has learned to fly and become a good pilot will suddenly discover music; the man who has settled down to live in the beauty spot will discover gardening.
This is, I think, one little part of what Christ meant by saying that a thing will not really live unless it first dies. It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go — let it die away — go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow — and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time. But if you decide to make thrills your regular diet and try to prolong them artificially, they will all get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, and you will be a bored, disillusioned old man for the rest of your life. It is because so few people understand this that you find many middle-aged men and women maundering about their lost youth, at the very age when new horizons ought to be appearing and new doors opening all round them. It is much better fun to learn to swim than to go on endlessly (and hopelessly) trying to get back the feeling you had when you first went paddling as a small boy.
— C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
Some days, we may do particularly well. We may assertively refuse someone’s invitation to be codependent. We may deal well with a particular conflict or feeling. We may have a few moments of intimacy or closeness. We may buy ourselves something special, then not wreck it by telling ourselves we don’t deserve it.
Some days, we may have to look more closely to notice what we did. Maybe we took time out to rest when we were tired. We said The Serenity Prayer during a trying moment. Things got crazy and we detached when we noticed ourselves getting hooked in.
On our worst days, we still look for something we’ve done toward recovery. Sometimes the best we can do is feel good about what we did not do. We pat ourselves on the back because we didn’t run to the nearest bar, drag home an alcoholic, and fall in love with him or her. For some of us, that’s real progress and not to be overlooked on the gray days.
All the days count. Believe in recovery. Our lives and experiences can be different and better. The process of getting better is happening right now, this moment, in our lives.
— Melody Beattie, Beyond Codependency, p. 236-237
“Here in America, on the other hand,” he went on, “people don’t fear uncertainty so much, and they fear failure even less. You change from one job to the next like you’re changing channels on the television. If you get tired of working for other people, you can try to start your own business, with hardly a moment’s thought about the risk. Look at how many businesses fail after only one year, and almost none make it past three. America is a land full of failures, and I say that only because that is what makes it great. In this country, when your dreams crash and burn all around you, you’re expected to simply learn from your mistakes, pick up the pieces from the wreckage, and start all over again. There’s no shame in it. And if you’re tired of your job or of running your own business, well, then you can go back to school at night and learn how to become a lawyer or a doctor or an architect or whatever you like. If you’re willing to work, there are no preconceived notions about what you can become or how far you can go. Trust me, it’s not like this in other parts of the world. It’s the main reason so many people come to this country — to be free of the old ways of thinking about themselves.”
— Peter Pezzelli, Italian Lessons, p. 70
The negative idea of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good things for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point. I do not think this is the Christian virtue of Love. The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about self-denial as an end in itself. We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire. If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.
— C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory