This certainly strikes a chord of resonance — the shadow anxieties that come out in other ways, the constant pull toward that American ideal of going it alone, the beautiful quote about the pilgrim leaving what’s nailed down. Thank you for the simple but rich vulnerability and wisdom you shared here, Shawn.
Even while playing the long game and creating refuge and community where you are, does that trusting and patient waiting preclude contacting an office or more at your municipal government about this dilemma?
In the best of times, isn't it a responsibility of government to balance the competing needs of its citizens - shops and new construction and the constructors, for example? Would a trusting and patient letter or email or phone call (whose words are already eloquently in this post) turn out to be useful, or even transformative? Maybe those with the responsibility to mediate aren't yet aware there is a problem?
I struggle with understanding the similarities and differences between learned helplessness and the steadfast hope of patient waiting. And if the path is patient waiting, could that be an active Advent waiting rather than a passive submission? Beseeching Heaven sometimes works locally as well. As with everything, though, discernment is key.
A completely sensible suggestion! I really do admire your optimism. And yet our experience to date, in many different ways, has shown that the needs and desires of the construction company building the 70-unit apartment building far outweigh those of a tiny book shop. It's difficult to think that would change now. Is that learned helplessness? Perhaps.
A trusting and patient letter may be required, might even be written, but I need time to gather my patience and trust so that I'm in the right headspace to write it.
So true: the impatience of our current moment— I feel it more and more every day lately, in the angry responses of families to our inability to fix their broken babies. Then we are tempted to internalize that anger and/or reflect it back. Pondering the slow-cooking analogy; thank you.
I feel you, both in the slashing of tires and the decision to wait and trust. I distinctly remember finally getting away from our deli for an hour alone, going for a walk on my favorite trail, and getting a phone call that so-and-so was sick and I needed to come back to work. I cried, cussed, and prayed for help. Help came, and she's our number one manager today. (She was late this morning but you've reminded me that I am thankful, nonetheless.)
Winter is tough for most businesses but January is prime reading time! I buy all our kids New Year's books—thanks for the link and lists ; ) I will gladly wait longer than 37 seconds.
I love the way you and Maile opened your hearts and discovered there an appreciation for the long game of life. I also can't believe I still haven't read "A Hidden Wholeness." Thank you for the reminder to put it on my stack.
What wonderful insight. The pains and frustrations we face so easily hijack our attention. That quiet trust your wife exhibits is an inspiration to me, who too often catastrophizes when roadblocks rise up.
Your truck dilemma reminds me how we live in a fallen world. For some, this season might include an unexpected loss, for others an unexpected diagnosis, or an estrangement they never could have imagined. But, with each God invites us to trust Him and not our circumstances. As I walk through my own version of the parked truck, I recite the scripture 1 Thessalonians 5:18, and then I breathe deeply. I confess I often stew first and I'm not proud of that. But when I am finally willing to be pruned until it hurts trusting that new fruit will come in its season, I find peace. God Bless your December AND your January too.
This certainly strikes a chord of resonance — the shadow anxieties that come out in other ways, the constant pull toward that American ideal of going it alone, the beautiful quote about the pilgrim leaving what’s nailed down. Thank you for the simple but rich vulnerability and wisdom you shared here, Shawn.
Cheering you on from Wisconsin!
Even while playing the long game and creating refuge and community where you are, does that trusting and patient waiting preclude contacting an office or more at your municipal government about this dilemma?
In the best of times, isn't it a responsibility of government to balance the competing needs of its citizens - shops and new construction and the constructors, for example? Would a trusting and patient letter or email or phone call (whose words are already eloquently in this post) turn out to be useful, or even transformative? Maybe those with the responsibility to mediate aren't yet aware there is a problem?
I struggle with understanding the similarities and differences between learned helplessness and the steadfast hope of patient waiting. And if the path is patient waiting, could that be an active Advent waiting rather than a passive submission? Beseeching Heaven sometimes works locally as well. As with everything, though, discernment is key.
I wish you well!
A completely sensible suggestion! I really do admire your optimism. And yet our experience to date, in many different ways, has shown that the needs and desires of the construction company building the 70-unit apartment building far outweigh those of a tiny book shop. It's difficult to think that would change now. Is that learned helplessness? Perhaps.
A trusting and patient letter may be required, might even be written, but I need time to gather my patience and trust so that I'm in the right headspace to write it.
This really spoke to my husband and me this morning. Thank you.
So true: the impatience of our current moment— I feel it more and more every day lately, in the angry responses of families to our inability to fix their broken babies. Then we are tempted to internalize that anger and/or reflect it back. Pondering the slow-cooking analogy; thank you.
You don't know how much this has helped me this morning and in this season. Thank you for your words, Shawn.
This feels very relatable. I find trust and patience so hard; I just want to fix and solve and UNDERSTAND. Thanks for this reflection.
I feel you, both in the slashing of tires and the decision to wait and trust. I distinctly remember finally getting away from our deli for an hour alone, going for a walk on my favorite trail, and getting a phone call that so-and-so was sick and I needed to come back to work. I cried, cussed, and prayed for help. Help came, and she's our number one manager today. (She was late this morning but you've reminded me that I am thankful, nonetheless.)
Winter is tough for most businesses but January is prime reading time! I buy all our kids New Year's books—thanks for the link and lists ; ) I will gladly wait longer than 37 seconds.
I love the way you and Maile opened your hearts and discovered there an appreciation for the long game of life. I also can't believe I still haven't read "A Hidden Wholeness." Thank you for the reminder to put it on my stack.
What wonderful insight. The pains and frustrations we face so easily hijack our attention. That quiet trust your wife exhibits is an inspiration to me, who too often catastrophizes when roadblocks rise up.
Trust. Patience. Wholeness. I needed those words today. Thank you, Shawn. As always, your writing speaks to my soul.
Your truck dilemma reminds me how we live in a fallen world. For some, this season might include an unexpected loss, for others an unexpected diagnosis, or an estrangement they never could have imagined. But, with each God invites us to trust Him and not our circumstances. As I walk through my own version of the parked truck, I recite the scripture 1 Thessalonians 5:18, and then I breathe deeply. I confess I often stew first and I'm not proud of that. But when I am finally willing to be pruned until it hurts trusting that new fruit will come in its season, I find peace. God Bless your December AND your January too.