Lisa Wingate Quotes

After all, what good is a life saved if you fail to live it?

INDIAN wisdom says our lives are rivers. We are born somewhere small and quiet and we move toward a place we cannot see, but only imagine. Along our journey, people and events flow into us, and we are created of everywhere and everyone we have passed. Each event, each person, changes us in some way. Even in times of drought we are still moving and growing, but it is during seasons of rain that we expand the most - when water flows from all directions, sweeping at terrifying speed, chasing against rocks, spilling over boundaries. These are painful times, but they enable us to carry burdens we could never have thought possible.

No way out but through the storm now.

The hardest thing about the road not taken is that you never know where it might have led.

I remember lost loves, and loves that never were.

Remember that, in any encounter, the only thing you can control is your own actions and reactions. You cannot dictate the actions of the other person, or in this case, the horse, but you can often send the right signals to get what you want. If you are often baffled by the reactions others have to you, it is probably because you are unaware of the silent signals you send through your posture, your facial gestures, your tone of voice, the amount of personal space you maintain, and so forth. Ever wondered why people don't listen when you try to assert yourself, or why people back away when you're trying to be friendly, or why you're never the one people seek out in a crowded room? Body language. Silent signals. Mixed signals. The trick is to focus outward, not inward.

you can't impact something you don't touch.

Maybe grace was all around me, bubbling through, passing under my feet, and I'd never seen it because I'd never tried to see.

People don't come into our lives by accident.

If Satan has toeholds that allow him to claw and climb from the underworld to this one, they lie in our failure to see ourselves in others.

You are a God of winds and tides. Of journeys and storms and navigation by stars and faith.

You got to remember that when things are out of our hands, that doesn't mean they're not in God's.

Eventually, you must stop running to something or from something and embrace where you are. Otherwise you'll never embrace anything.

Generally, crises were Mom's domain. Dad's job was to listen, nod, act curmudgeonly, and offer to pay for things.

Dear Deborah,

Words do not come easily for so many men. We are taught to be strong, to provide, to put away our emotions. A father can work his way through his days and never see that his years are going by. If I could go back in time, I would say some things to that young father as he holds, somewhat uncertainly, his daughter for the very first time. These are the things I would say:

When you hear the first whimper in the night, go to the nursery leaving your wife sleeping. Rock in a chair, walk the floor, sing a lullaby so that she will know a man can be gentle.

When Mother is away for the evening, come home from work, do the babysitting. Learn to cook a hotdog or a pot of spaghetti, so that your daughter will know a man can serve another's needs.

When she performs in school plays or dances in recitals, arrive early, sit in the front seat, devote your full attention. Clap the loudest, so that she will know a man can have eyes only for her.

When she asks for a tree house, don't just build it, but build it with her. Sit high among the branches and talk about clouds, and caterpillars, and leaves. Ask her about her dreams and wait for her answers, so that she will know a man can listen.

When you pass by her door as she dresses for a date, tell her she is beautiful. Take her on a date yourself. Open doors, buy flowers, look her in the eye, so that she will know a man can respect her.

When she moves away

Dawn comes after the darkness, and with it the promise that what has been torn by the sea is not lost. All of life is breaking and mending, clipping and stitching, gathering tatters and sewing seams. All of life is quilted from the scraps of what once was and is no more- the places we have been, the memories we have made, the people we have known, that which has been long loved but has grown threadbare over time and can be worn no longer. We keep only pieces. All colors, all shapes, all sizes.
"All waiting to be stitched into the pattern only you can see.
"In the quiet after the storm, I hear you whisper, 'Daughter, do not linger where you are. Take up your needle and your thread, and go see to the mending ...

My life was like that box. The best things in all the imperfections.

A bad past is like gristle. You can chew on it forever and starve yourself to death, or you can spit it out and see what else is on the table.

Like the beach glass, the wood was more beautiful because of its journey, because of the things it had been through.

Inside the perfect shells is dim,
It's through the cracks, the light comes in.

I was not alone in the human condition.

Sometimes it ain't the drunk or the sinner who needs a shovel across the rear, it's the ones who could quote you chapter and verse about grace, but don't hand it out.

Even the ramparts of reputation, and ambition, and social position couldn't erase the love of sisters, their bond with one another. Suddenly, the barriers that created their need for hidden lives and secret meeting places seem almost as cruel as those of brokered adoptions, altered paperwork, and forced separations.

I understood now that all of us have that place inside that wants to be part of something, that needs the comfort and companionship of loved ones. Within each of us, there is an empty room, and when we open the door, light flows in. The wider we open it, and the longer we leave it open, the brighter our souls become.

Prayers are answered in ways we don't choose. The river of grace bubbles up in unexpected places.

If we never take a chance on people, we'll never know.

To love and be loved is the very thing our souls scream for from birth and every moment after, the urge to need and be needed as natural as breathing, as life-giving as breath.

But the love of sisters needs no words. It does not depend on memories, or mementos, or proof. It runs as deep as a heartbeat. It is as ever present as a pulse.

Oh shoot, Imagene, you shouldn't have told them that. Big mouth. "I mean, not that the hotel's not open for business now, because it is. Sure enough. You're both here." I flashed a big toothy grin, but only Carter smiled back. The

Well, you know how a river moves a mountain." The words surprised me at first, but I knew where they were coming from. "Stone by stone," she finished.

Life is a process of storms and rebuilding, of fires and regrowth, of loss and gain.

The beginning of a journey is always uncertainty, but with uncertainty comes hope.

There was no other place I loved so well as this one."
"Me as well,"... For all the places I've loved, there have been none like this. This place is a deeper love, a sisterhood of water and sand and soul. A place where you fill me through my eyes and my ears, Father.

The Lord has afforded breath for another day. The situation could be worse. They'd

Pride and resentment do not create bread that will rise. Bread, like a good life, can only be created by honest measure, patience, warmth, and time.

That's really nice. I picture my mother and my aunt, a little over four years apart in age, curled up in the same bed, sharing innocent games of Let's Pretend. It makes the present situation seem that much sadder. Should geography and real estate signs outweigh the bonds formed by the shared milestones of childhood?

Ever'body got story. Ever'body got a reason for what they do. You eat off somebody else's plate, drink a their cup, could be, you'd be the same way.

The great thing about literature is that it's subjective. No two readers read the same book, because we all see the words through different eyes, filter the story through different life experiences.

Sad thing when stories die for the lack of listenin' ears.

...setting out together in a marriage is a lot like setting out on the river. Some parts will be rough; some will be smooth. You can't see from the start where it's gonna travel and where it's gonna end up. Sometimes it'll turn a sharp corner; sometimes it'll drift along awhile. Thing is, no matter what the river does, both parties gotta paddle equally, see?

When I'm with him, I feel like a completely different person. I like the way this person feels. And then I wonder - is this the person I really am?
How can you know for certain what parts of yourself are authentic and what parts you've invented to make life bearable?

A woman's past need not predict her future. She can dance to new music if she chooses. Her own music. To hear the tune, she must only stop talking. To herself, I mean. We're always trying to persuade ourselves of things." I

Hardship finds its way into every life. It's just much easier to see our own than other people's. Hannah

Help them to show the world that our greatness is not in things we do for ourselves, but in things we do for others.

Life is not unlike cinema. Each scene has its own music, and the music is created for the scene, woven to it in ways we do not understand. No matter how much we may love the melody of a bygone day or imagine the song of a future one, we must dance within the music of today, or we will always be out of step, stumbling around in something that doesn't suit the moment.

Other people's judgment doesn't have any power unless you offer yourself up for trial, so don't. Zoey

And if you haven't got a single book, the idea of putting your hand on one is like Christmas and a birthday rolled up together."
- character May Weathers

I wrote about the rush of love, the changing of a woman into a mother - a process that happened without conscious thought, as if the heart knew what the mind and body took time to learn. Love is the one thing that matters. That makes everything else matter. That makes everything worthwhile.

You're going to have to face this. You can't let other people decide your life for you ... Other people's judgement doesn't have any power unless you offer yourself up for trial, so don't.

Trust.

It was possible to trust that which you could not predict, or plan, or control.

In fact, it was essential. It was the only way to really live.

But ain't it always the way, Birdie, that the easiest faults to find in other people are the ones you got yourself?

Decision you make in life has benefits and consequences. Sometimes you just have to go on faith, and even that comes at a price. It means you have to give up the idea that you're the one in charge of the universe.

I've finally come to fully understand that you can't fix another person. You can't fix the past. You can only change your way of reacting to it.

Joy, I realized, isn't so much a circumstance you find yourself in but a choice you make.

Oh, child. The best thing is to know. I always tell 'em, best to be who you is. What you is deep down inside. Ain't no other good way of livin'.

The same road always leads to the same place. If we get on it expecting to go somewhere different, we'll be disappointed, won't we? As you said, it isn't very smart.
... Do the same things, get the same results. Simple, stupid.

Even though Jack wasn't a romantic man in big showy ways, those little things let me know his feelings more than any high-dollar roses on Valentine's Day ever could have. In Corinthians, Paul says love's not boastful, so I reckon Jack got it right. His love was patient and quiet, and it endured.

What the mind don't 'member, the heart still know. Love, the strongest thang of all. Stronger than all the rest.

Not appreciating the noise until she was surrounded by silence.

Fear builds walls instead of bridges. I want a life of bridges, not walls.

I think of an old sermon my grandfather quoted from time to time - something about not looking back when you're plowing a field, but instead finding a mark in the distance and focusing on that. Otherwise, the rows won't come out straight.

The choral group. I have even begun to master the organ, not so different from Monsieur's piano. I strained to hear the whisper, as Sister Agnes went on with her thought. The audiences prefer children who are young, too young to be out working for themselves. It pleases them to feel as though they're donating to

How can God allow such abominations to flourish unchecked in this world?
The answer came in a question, Ruby.
God, in reply, asked, "How can you?

My mama used to say the blues is an ailment that don't like no sunshine in the room.

In those moments, I'd known that something new was being formed in me, too, created so gently that I hadn't even realized it until that evening by the shore.

Sisters are created not by blood but by love.

The depth of my love for him, of my need for him poured over me, both painful and sweet, both comforting and frightening. If anything happened to him, I didn't know how I would keep going.

Maybe you should start wanting less

Those dreams that find you in the quiet of yourself, those are the truest of all,

We can never really know, except in hindsight, how prayers will be answered.

I don't want someone who's just with me until things get a little too difficult, or something better comes along, or marriage isn't as much fun as it used to be. I want the real thing-for better or worse, rich, poor, sickness, health, forever and ever, amen.

The important thing isn't proving you can achieve a goal, but living every moment along the way, even the side trips

No matter how much we may love the melody of a bygone day or imagine the song of a future one, we must dance within the music of today, or we will always be out of step, stumbling around in something that doesn't suit the moment.
"Before we were yours

All the best things in life start with a risk.

Arney brought me back so I could go forward.

The man who buys what he does not need will often need what he cannot buy.'

What we cannot change we must endure without bitterness.

I began to see the magic of Jocelyn's horse psychology school. You couldn't put on airs with a horse, as we so often do with people. Horses look through the masks we wear and the things we say. They see who we really are. They gauge our intentions in a thousand invisible ways that have nothing to do with the words we say. They shy away from the barriers of fear, self-centeredness, jealousy, anger, impatience. They are drawn in by kindness, understanding, concern, openness, love.

The thing is, so are people.

To my grandmothers,
for tilling the soil in which we grew and for watering our roots with stories of all the old things

Father, help these young people to see. Help them to show the world that our greatness is not in things we do for ourselves, but in things we do for others. In power that channels itself into kindness, in a hand outstretched in love. Be with these determined students. Help them to believe, when the naysayers come, that you make all things possible. "'And,

The future is a blank page, but not a mystery.

Together, we travel the living river. We turn our faces to the sunlight and fly time and time again home to Kingdom Arcadia.

The journey itself was the architect of the wood. The interior would never be fully dark because the struggle had cracked it, providing an avenue for the light.

Sometimes life goes by in a trickle and sometimes life goes by in a flood. It's in those rainy seasons you find out how well you can swim.

Through all my adult life, I had wanted to know exactly where I was going and what path to take to get there. I had never considered the beauty of where I was.

Realize that grieving is a process. It doesn't stop just because the family wants the parent or grandparent to get on with life.

Some things just are, because they are. Because God made them that way.

Maybe there came a point in life where you had to quit categorizing whole groups of people by a few bad experiences.

I never did try to make my daddy understand why I left for the army the way I did. I just thought, because he loved me, he should let it go, and if he couldn't, well then he didn't love me like I thought. Young folks get love and understandin' backward, don't they? Love don't come galloping across fresh pastures like a fine white horse with understandin' riding soft and easy on its back. Understandin' plods in like an old plow mule, breaking sod. It shades the earth with its body, and waters it with sweat. Love grows up in the furrow that's left behind. It takes some patience. I was an impatient young man. ~Claude Fisher

My mama used to say if you frown on the outside long enough, eventually you'll grow a frown on the inside, too.

Be patient, Katie. Everything doesn't have to work itself out today.

The most important thing, I think. You can't run from your past. You have to take it for what it is and realize that it's part of you.

Father in heaven,
Please take up the struggle where I have failed in it. Please do not let this journey have been for naught. I need to know the truth before I die, and I need to leave things well with Deborah and with Epiphany. If I've lacked anything in life, it has been in the asking for help when I needed it and in the believing of things I could not prove.
I'm asking now, which ultimately means that I do believe.
And perhaps that I am at the point of desperation.
You accept prayers from both perspectives, I suspect. Thank you for accepting this one.
The end...
I mean ... Amen.

I wanted to write it on paper and fold it up in a box to remind myself, the next time I couldn't see anything but mountains ahead, that where there's a mountain, there's always a river flowing nearby. Ultimately the river is the more powerful of the two.

The little box that was given to me was by no means unique. I'd heard of prayer boxes, and I knew what they were for.
... Any scrap of paper will do, anywhere, anytime of the day or night. The important part, in a world of fractured thoughts, hurried moments, and scattershot prayers, is to take the time to think through, to write down, to clarify in your own mind the things you're asking for, the things you're grateful for, the things your're troubled about, the hopes you've been nurturing.
And then?
Put them in the box and ...
Let. Them. Go.
That's what trust is. It's letting go of the worry. It's the way of peace and also the way of God. such a hard road to travel for people like me, who are worriers. When I'm writing a story, I control the whole universe. In life ... not so much. Actually, not at all. Things happen that I hadn't anticipated and wouldn't choose and can't change. That's the tough part.

My heart filled with Nick's smile, with the look of sheer adoration he gave me as he lugged the bucket. In the space of an instant, I felt it again - the crumbling of an old part of me, the growth of something new. The changing of my heart into a mother's heart. It happened at the strangest times, in the most unexpected ways. Nick looked at me, and the love I felt for him was almost painful in its intensity. I'd never known I had it in me, the capacity to love this way ... But when Nick looked at me, my mind tumbled through nights and mornings, seasons and years in the future ... I saw a future like none I'd ever imagined. I wanted it, every minute of it.

A life can be blessed without your ever deserving it. You can be loved by people just because they choose to love you.

The trouble with drowning in the mess of your own life is that you're not in any shape to save anyone else. You can't be a lighthouse when you're underwater yourself.

I desire to live my life this way, ... Not caged by the walls of fear, but in anticipation of the bridges to magnificence.
Help me find the way.

For just a moment, I thought about it. I pictured how it would be, dusting off the rusty Romance Lindsey, long hidden in some box in the back closet of my mind, under piles of more important boxes filled with Work Lindsey, and Mommy Lindsey, Divorce Court Lindsey, and now Shared Custody Lindsey, and Depressed Insane Lindsey.
Was Romance Lindsey even there anymore? Probably not. She had sat forgotten for so long that, like the Skin Horse and the Velveteen Rabbit, she had ceased to be real. I never even thought about her anymore. Until now. Which was a bad sign that the boxes were getting jumbled up and Control Freak Lindsey needed to get to work.
...
He grinned wickedly, and my stomach fluttered like a firecracker the instant the chain reaction starts inside the casing. Romance Lindsey and Tomboy Lindsey grabbed Mommy Lindsey, shoved her into a box, and sat down on the lid. Control Freak Lindsey ran away screaming.

The shadow of the highest evil intermingled with the light of the highest good. Maybe all lives are filled with this. Maybe it is always a choice between embracing the darkness of one or the saving grace of the other.