Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I've Loved

by Kate Bowler

Later, just knowing that he is happy—that people I adore can restart their lives—glues something inside of me back together.

If I were to invent a sin to describe what that was—for how I lived—I would not say it was simply that I didn’t stop to smell the roses. It was the sin of arrogance, of becoming impervious to life itself. I failed to love what was present and decided to love what was possible instead. I must learn to live in ordinary time, but I don’t know how.