Celebrating Our Worthiness

Core Value, Joy, Letting Go 0

Reaching a state of well-being that isn’t reliant on anyone else’s actions is what we all hope for and what most of us strive for. Celebrating our worthiness, regardless of how others might be responding to us, isn’t a natural act. We seem to be far too dependent on others telling us that we are okay, either through words or deeds. The joy of experiencing a moment, now and then, when we simply know we are fine regardless of what others are doing or saying is so much appreciated.

— Karen Casey, Let Go Now, p. 45

Playing

Children, Children and Books, Reading 1

Teaching in elementary school, and watching kids in action, I came to appreciate how effortlessly kids learn when they play. Babies learn to talk without taking multiple-choice talking tests. Toddlers learn to toddle without writing toddling essays. How do they do it? By playing around.

So from teaching I learned to respect kids as natural learners, supply them with the tools to learn, and then get out of the way. I learned to inspire instead of lecture. I learned to trust play. That philosophy is at the heart of everything I write for kids. I want my readers to laugh, of course. But then I want them to question, to argue, to wonder — What if? I want them to play. I want them to learn for themselves.

— Jon Scieszka, “What’s So Funny, Mr. Scieszka?,” A Family of Readers, edited by Roger Sutton and Martha V. Parravano, p. 169

Childlike

Faith, God, Growth, Prayer 0

God is for all of us and for all of our most complex transactions. Dependency upon God is not childish. It is childlike — and we all know how quickly children can grow and transform. When we make ourselves childlike in relation to God, we open ourselves to similar growth and transformation. It is a paradox, but in striving to become as little children, we also become more fully adult. We open ourselves up to the root word response in the word responsible.

— Julia Cameron, Faith and Will, p. 141

Joyful People

God, Joy 0

Why are we naturally drawn to joyful people? One reason, I believe, is that joy is a sign of God’s presence, which is naturally attractive to us. God’s joy speaks to the joy that dwells sometimes hidden in our hearts. “Deep calls to deep,” as Psalm 42 says. Or, as St. Augustine wrote, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in you, O Lord.” Augustine, a fourth-century North African theologian, understood something fundamental about human beings: we naturally desire God, the source of all joy. We are drawn to joy because we are drawn to God.

— James Martin, Between Heaven and Mirth, p. 29

The Bible From Life’s Autumn

God, Growth 0

The Bible looks different once you’ve survived the autumn. It’s no longer a repository for theological abstractions that can be organized into a tidy fortress called a “Christian worldview” or “orthodoxy.” It’s no longer a wallet full of credit cards that you can slap on the table to pay every bill. It’s no longer a weapon by which you vanquish those who don’t have the good fortune of sharing your approved opinions. No, for an autumn-humbled seeker, the Bible is the living legacy of people who have lived in the real world, a diary of complexities and perplexities survived and reflected upon. It’s the family album that carries the memories of ancestors who managed to keep their faith, hope, and love alive in a world that shocked them, rocked them, and mocked them. When you’re in springtime, you love the Bible for the affirmation of the goodness of life that it offers. When you’re in summertime, you love the Bible for the motivation to stay in the fray that it offers. But in autumn, you love the Bible more than ever, now for the honesty it offers — honesty about the death of naivete, the falling of all green leaves.

— Brian MacLaren, Naked Spirituality, p. 171

The Father’s Unfairness

Forgiveness, God 0

The father redefines fairness. It’s not that his father hasn’t been fair with him; it’s that his father never set out to be fair in the first place. Grace and generosity aren’t fair; that’s their very essence. The father sees the younger brother’s return as one more occasion to practice unfairness. The younger son doesn’t deserve a party — that’s the point of the party. That’s how things work in the father’s world. Profound unfairness.

— Rob Bell, Love Wins, p. 168

Why Children’s Literature?

Beauty, Books, Children, Children and Books, Reading 0

That can be annoying for the people who packed the box. They want children to learn to read, for example, and of course they are right. The most important thing you learn at school is how to read. It’s important because we live in a literate society and in our society it’s as important to be able to read as it is to be able to walk and talk — if you can’t do these things, your ability to participate in society is restricted. But literature is bounding along ahead like the white rabbit, and before you know where you are, it’s over the hills and far away. Because children’s literature knows perfectly well that literacy is only a beginning, not an end. It’s the starting point, not the goal.

Literature soars way up into the air like a kite and makes us gasp. It’s held in place by a string wound around a spool, and the spool is maybe in the box. We have to have the spool of string, but the spool isn’t the interesting thing. It’s the kite that’s beautiful and buoyant and alive and that tugs for freedom.

— Siobhan Parkinson, “Flying Kites and Chasing White Rabbits: Children’s Literature in Functional Times,” The Horn Book Magazine, September/October 2011, p. 53

Proud Survivors

Beauty, Core Value, Gratitude, Growth, Healing, Life, Trials 0

Nothing can erase what happened to you; you can’t go back. And, even if you could, there are gifts you have gained that you would likely not want to trade. What we survivors know makes us uniquely equipped to live full, vibrant, courageous lives. Our experiences have given us an exquisite, and sometimes painful, sensitivity. We are stronger, wiser, more compassionate, more appreciative, and more real because of what we have endured. We have acquired the ability to see things more clearly and more beautifully, to live more fully and more meaningfully. We are a proud tribe.

— Alicia Salzer, MD, Back to Life, p. 250-251