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

by Shauna Niequist

“I’ve been seeing worried parents for decades now. Parents worry, and kids are mostly fine. Just do this one thing: Be enchanted by whatever’s currently enchanting your child.”

Things I recommend heartily: a shower in the middle of a bad day, a big glass of water, driving or walking out of your way to get even a glimpse of the water.

Since sleep doesn’t come easy every time, when I tuck the boys into bed, I tell them they can throw me all their worries, the way kids throw kisses in clenched fists. I catch them, one by one, and tuck each one of them into the pockets of my bathrobe. They don’t tell me what the worries are; they just throw them over to me. And then, of course, the obvious corollary: when I lie down after tucking them in, I empty my pockets of their worries and mine—dear God, dear God, dear God.

One of my goals is to be a person who is easily delighted, who can find great cause for celebration in a fig or a familiar face.

You are allowed to love tiny, daily, ordinary moments in your life. You’re allowed to feel wild joy for the simplest and smallest of reasons. You’re allowed to be unreasonably delighted by spicy pickles or a perfect apple or a joke your teen tells you.

Second, I forgive. I forgive the night. I forgive the people who have hurt me. I forgive the world for not being what I wanted. I forgive myself for all the ways I feel like I’m failing.

Hospitality is holding space for another person to be seen and heard and loved. It’s giving someone a place to be when they’d otherwise be alone. It’s, as my friend Sibyl says, when someone leaves your home feeling better about themselves, not better about you.