I Guess I Haven't Learned That Yet: Discovering New Ways of Living When the Old Ways Stop Working

by Shauna Niequist

Being a writer means being committed to paying attention, to walking through the world as a noticer.

Self-compassion is learning to say, I guess I haven’t learned that yet.

The changes connect and cascade, and the only way through it, it seems to me, is with curiosity and self-compassion, one in each hand, the tools for the journey.

So much of the life I’ve lived up to this point was about holding things together, preserving them, never letting something fall or fall apart. It was like I was building a fortress, thick walls and foundations that went practically to the center of the earth itself. I was gathering people and years and traditions, wrapping people into it, weaving families and stories and moments and dinners together, trying to make something heavy and durable, something that would keep me safe. And moving to New York taught me a million things about living more lightly—that you can love someone and learn from them and be deeply grateful for them for a season, and then bless their future.

there’s a stubborn part of me that is absolutely unwilling to starve my own heart because some other people have gotten it wrong. My faith is one of the most nourishing, healing, restorative parts of my life, and I’m unwilling to go without it as a protest. I see the church’s failings. I’ve seen many of them up close, much closer than I’d like. But show me something that hasn’t been corrupted by human hands. And my hands are as fallible as any. I still believe that the way of Jesus, even poorly done, is a better way than any other.

We learn to grab joy and delight when we can. We learn that we don’t control plotlines, even though we forget sometimes. We learn that every good thing takes time and work and patience. We learn to be suspicious of overnight success or magic solutions. We learn to ask for help, to ask for space, to ask for second