A Peaceful Decision
To give up control is a peaceful decision. Everyone is blessed by it. But no one more than you.
— Karen Casey, Let Go Now
Tragedy to Whom?
But the only person who decided my life had turned to dust was me. The only person who is still deeply troubled about what I’ve lost, even in the face of what I’ve gained, is me. I would never have wanted it this way, but something bright and beautiful has been given to me, and I’m in grave danger of losing it, squandering it, becoming a person who cannot find the goodness that’s right in front of her because of the sadness that she chooses to let obscure it.
— Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines, p. 177
Lending Books
Lending books to other people is merely a shrewd form of housecleaning.
— Joe Queenan, One for the Books, p.19
Live Lives of Ease
If we really could control others, our burdens would be heavy. Our work would never, ever, be finished. Why then do we think we want the power to control others? For years I pondered this. I think it’s because we think that if others do as we ask, it’s a sign of love, and love is what we fear losing most of all. When others give in to our way of thinking, it’s because they love us unconditionally — or so we tell ourselves. Only then can we rest and feel secure.
The fallacy of this runs so deep. Others doing our will has nothing to do with love. They simply may be tired of the battle. How much more serene our lives would be if we gave up the battle too. Deciding to detach is our invitation to live lives of ease. Someone else may not give up the battle, but let’s do it ourselves.
— Karen Casey, Let Go Now, p. 166
What We Call Curses
I know that it seemed like God was being cruel that year…. But he was not. What I know now is that his kindness burns through even the deepest betrayals and invites life from death every chance we let him. There are things that explode into our lives and we call them curses, and then one day, a year later or ten years later, we realize that they are actually something else. They are the very most precious kinds of blessings.
— Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines, p. 176
Think of All the Time You’ll Save!
The reason detachment is rewarding is that it gives us so much relief. It allows us to thoroughly relax our bodies and our minds. It makes us feel reborn. And it gives us extra time to play for a change, to plant flowers perhaps, or read books, reconnect with old or new friends, take up painting or weaving or birding. It’s amazing how much free time we have when we remove our attention from the many people and situations that didn’t cotton to having our attention anyway.
— Karen Casey, Let Go Now, p. 145
Why Forgive?
And I think if we went to court, some strange friendship court where you can get a ruling about these things, I think I would win, still, even after all these months. The pain has softened ever so slightly, but it still seems like she did something wrong. How do I forgive someone who doesn’t think she did anything wrong? Or who doesn’t care?
I could maybe do it if she groveled or begged. It would be even easier if she cried a lot. I would be more apt to forgive her if she told me she thought I was a genius with great fashion sense and that she wants to be like me someday. But nothing. No phone calls. No emails. No large, fragrant bouquets of flowers. Nothing. Why would I forgive someone who doesn’t even think she needs to be forgiven?
This is why. Because I want my neck and my back muscles to stop hurting, to unfurl like window shades. Because I want to sleep instead of having endless imaginary conversations. Because I want my mind back. Because I want my life back. Because she’s not the only one on the hook. Because every time I hang her up on that hook, the hook reaches down and grabs me, too.
— Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines, p. 167
Our Teachers
Every day someone who crosses our path cries out to be controlled or argued with or judged. Consider them God-sent. They are our teachers, one and all.
— Karen Casey, Let Go Now, p. 144
Road Signs of My Beloved Books
I know that my life is marked by the road signs of my beloved books, each one symbolizing who I was when I read it, shaping who I have become. The uninitiated might say that I am lost in my books, but I know I am more found than lost.
— Donalyn Miller, The Book Whisperer, p. 49
Pennies on the Path
Each one of our lives is shot through, threaded in and out with God’s provision, his grace, his protection, but on the average day, we notice it about as much as we really notice gravity or the hole in the ozone…. Once you start seeing the faithfulness and the hope, you see it everywhere, like pennies. And little by little, here and there, you realize that all of life is littered with bright copper coins, that all of life is woven with bits and stories of God’s goodness.
When I look back now, with these new eyes, it’s like there’s a bright copper path I was walking on and didn’t even know it. And it’s the handful of pennies that I’m clutching in my sweaty hand that gives me the faith and the strength to move forward. What gives me hope is the belief that God will be faithful, because he has been faithful before, to me and the people around me. I need the reminders. I need to be told that he was faithful then, and then, and then. Just because I have forgotten how to see doesn’t mean it isn’t there. His goodness is there. His promises have been kept. All I need to do is see.
Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines, p. 127-128