you probably remember my favorite book of 09:
cold tangerines. i mean,
i loved this book. i love the way the author,
shauna niequist, writes so beautifully and authentically, and how you feel like you're her best friend when you finish reading.
well, thanks to
christine (who originally told me about cold tangerines, too!) i have recently discovered shauna's blog. and the best news of 2010?
she has a new book coming out this fall! it's called
bittersweet, and i have really no idea what it's about, but i'm assuming its along the same lines as her last book -- a memoir-esque journey through life's ups and downs and the lessons she's learned along the way. and i know that it comes out in september.
shauna
(we're totally on a 1st name basis..) did release an excerpt from the first chapter, "learning to swim". you can hear her read it
here on her blog, or i've also copied over the text below.
my heart resonates particularly with the idea of praying to God like a a short order cook: "this is what i want. period. aren't you getting this?" (i mean, no, i've never said that...) and the praying for the waiting to be over...oh wow, do i not like waiting...at all.
hope you enjoy this little piece..
{and if you haven't already, go ahead and get cold tangerines.
you'll thank me later.} Learning to Swim.
I learned about waves when I was little, swimming in Lake Michigan, in navy blue water under a clear sky, and the most important thing I learned was this: if you try to stand and face the wave, it will smash you to bits, but if you trust the water, and let it carry you, there’s nothing sweeter. And a couple decades later, that’s what I’m learning to be true about life, too. If you dig in and fight the change you’re facing, it will indeed smash you to bits. It will hold you under, drag you across the rough sand, scare and confuse you.
This last season in my life has been characterized, more than anything else, by change. Hard, swirling, one-after-another changes, so many that I can’t quite regain my footing before the next one comes, very much like being tumbled by waves.
During that season, there were moments when I lost touch with the heart of God’s story, the part where life always comes from death. I love the life part, and I always try to skip over that pesky death part. You can’t do that, as much as I’ve tried.
I believe that God is making all things new. I believe that Christ overcame death and that that pattern is apparent all through life and history: life from death, water from a stone, redemption from failure, connection from alienation. I believe that suffering is a part of the narrative, and that nothing really good gets built when everything’s easy. I believe that loss and emptiness and confusion often give way to new fullness and wisdom. But in that difficult season, I failed to believe in the big, beautiful story of who God is and what He is doing in this world.
If I’m honest, I prayed the way you order breakfast from a short order cook: this is what I want. Period. This is what I want. Aren’t you getting this? I didn’t pray for God’s will to be done in my life, or, at any rate, I didn’t mean it. I prayed to be rescued, not redeemed. I prayed for it to get easier, not that I would be shaped in significant ways. I prayed for the waiting to be over, instead of trying to learn something about patience or anything else for that matter.
What I know now, though, is that change is one of God’s greatest gifts, and most useful tools. I’ve learned that change can push us, pull us, rebuke and remake us. It can show us who we’ve become, in the worst ways, and also in the best ways. I’ve learned that in many cases, change is not a function not life’s cruelty but instead a function of God’s graciousness.
If you dig in and fight the changes, they will smash you to bits. They’ll hold you under, drag you across the rough sand, scare and confuse you. But if you can find it within yourself, in the wildest of seasons, just for a moment, to trust in the goodness of God, who made it all and holds it all together, you’ll find yourself drawn along to a whole new place, and there’s truly nothing sweeter. Unclench your fists, unlock your knees and also the door to your heart, take a deep breath, and let God do his work in you.