The Light We Carry: Overcoming in Uncertain Times

by Michelle Obama

As disheartening as it is, there are people in this world who are more comfortable or

feel more powerful when others are made to feel isolated, broken, or unwelcome.

This was another strange facet of our new life as First Family: People felt compelled to try to match themselves to the glamour of our surroundings. I felt embarrassed that anyone would ever, for one second, think they needed to fix themselves up on our behalf.

the type of thing every parent spends years scanning for, which is evidence of common sense.

I hope they find home, whatever that ends up looking like.

Any long-term partnership, really, is an act of stubborn faith.

The change is in what’s between us, the million small adjustments, compromises, and sacrifices we’ve each made in order to accommodate the close presence of the other, this hybrid energy of him and me together—us two—now seasoned and battle-tested over decades.

But the thing is, the “real” always shows up. It will find you, one way or another.

What stood out right away about Barack was that he had no interest in being casual. His forthrightness with me was even a little startling at first.

With him, there would be none of the standard cat-and-mouse romantic gamesmanship. He was uninterested in playing around. Instead, he took the guesswork right out of it.

For the Robinsons, consistency was love.

my mother had no interest in owning showpieces of any sort. She was never going to pretend that anything under our roof was actually precious, beyond our bodies and souls.

sooner rather than later, you will almost surely be brought to your knees, realizing that despite your best and most earnest efforts, you are only marginally—and sometimes very marginally—in control.

Her most visible victory came only after years of small setbacks and incremental progress.

Not everyone will be a lion or a hurricane.

I used to think about this as I lay next to Sasha and Malia at bedtime in the evenings. I’d watch them drift off to sleep, their lips parted, the arcs of their little chests rising and falling beneath the sheets, and feel struck by the realization that no matter how much I tried, I’d never know even half their thoughts. We’re alone, each one of us. That’s the ache of being human.

There’s no way to eliminate the ache of being human, but I do think we can diminish it.

Preparedness becomes a hedge against panic. And panic is what will lead you into disaster.

Kids, for me, are always a reminder that we are all born loving and open-minded, free of hate. They are the reason the rest of us maintain a thick skin and keep trying to clear the path.