{"product_id":"have-a-beautiful-terrible-day-isbn-9780593727676","title":"Have a Beautiful, Terrible Day!","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BESTSELLER • Witty, honest, and wise spiritual reflections that invite readers to embrace the bad, not just the good—from the four-time \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eEverything Happens for a Reason (And Other Lies I’ve Loved) \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKate Bowler believes that the cultural pressure to be cheerful and optimistic at all times has taken a toll on our faith. But what if we could find better language than forced positivity to express our hopes and our anxieties? \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eHave a Beautiful, Terrible Day!\u003c\/i\u003e is packed with bite-size reflections and action-oriented steps to help you get through the day, be it good, bad, or totally mediocre. This is a devotional for the rest of us—which is to say, the people who don’t have magical lives that always work out for the best. As she composed these meditations during a season of chronic pain, Bowler understands how every day can be an obstacle course. She encourages us to develop our capacity to feel the breadth of our experiences. The better we are at identifying our highs and lows, the more resilient we become.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLike modern-day psalms, Bowler’s spiritual reflections look for the ways we can expand our capacity for courage, love, and honesty—while discovering divine moments with God. With bonus sections to use during the seasons of Advent and Lent, this is an easy book to read along with other people too. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf you want to build your daily habit of spiritual attentiveness, this book is here to say: \u003ci\u003eMay all your days be lovely. But for those that aren’t, have a beautiful, terrible day!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eKate Bowler\u003c\/b\u003e is the three-time \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eEverything Happens for a Reason, No Cure for Being Human, Good Enough, The Lives We Actually Have, Blessed,\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Preacher’s Wife\u003c\/i\u003e and hosts the popular podcast \u003ci\u003eEverything Happens\u003c\/i\u003e. A Duke University professor, she earned a master’s of religion from Yale Divinity School and a PhD at Duke University.\u003cb\u003e01\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen Everything is Out of Control\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eGive me a sign of your goodness.\u003c\/i\u003e —Psalm 86:17a (NIV)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere is something people say when you are in a lot of pain or trouble or life is out of control. They say: “All you can control is your reaction.” And, sure, that’s often good advice. We can try to reduce the scale of our problem solving to a small, manageable step. But I don’t want you to have to skip that first true thing you are allowed to say: “I have lost control. This is happening to me.” This blessing is for when you need to say, “God, this is out of control. People keep telling me that I have control over this, but I really don’t. I need help.” Read or pray this meditation aloud if you need some divine rescue plan and some acknowledgment of that reality. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll you can change, they say, is you.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou don’t control anyone but yourself. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll you can do, they say,\u003cbr\u003eis take a breath and\u003cbr\u003econsider your reaction\u003cbr\u003eto what is happening. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReturn to yourself. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou are what is happening.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat is happening is a landslide, God.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe world melted before my eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt is the feeling of my feet going first\u003cbr\u003ethen my back, smack against the ground\u003cbr\u003ethen the whooshing sound\u003cbr\u003eof the earth as it moves.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s the speed. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGod, why didn’t anyone tell me\u003cbr\u003eabout the speed at which it goes—\u003cbr\u003emy horizon, my choices, my control—\u003cbr\u003ebefore, blink, blink,\u003cbr\u003esomeone with a calm voice\u003cbr\u003eis asking me about my reaction\u003cbr\u003eto a world now left behind. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou are there, somewhere out there,\u003cbr\u003ethough I can hardly feel it.\u003cbr\u003eSend an angel, send a fleet, send them now. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ereflection prompt\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA long time ago I started believing (mistakenly) that I wasn’t allowed to ask for help. Is there someone you can reach out to and tell them what you’re going through?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e02\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou’re Not Sleeping Much \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eI will both lie down in peace, and sleep; For You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.\u003c\/i\u003e —Psalm 4:8 (NKJV)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen I was young I could never sleep peacefully. I would hover in that place between dreaming and awareness, caught in the webs of restless dreams. Some were absurd (where is the last piece of that puzzle?). Others were terrifying (I can’t get out! I can never get out!). I would pace the house—mostly still asleep—in my red pajamas, worrying, worrying, worrying. As an adult, I still have never really gotten the hang of sleep. I lie there thinking, rehearsing, planning, despairing. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis verse from the Psalmist has become a precious one to me. It says to me: Lord, you care even about this waking and sleeping self, the one who no one knows but you. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNearby someone is snoring\u003cbr\u003ewith the efficiency of\u003cbr\u003ean industrial meat grinder\u003cbr\u003eand it’s not polite to hate someone\u003cbr\u003ewhile their eyes are closed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr sometimes the bed is empty,\u003cbr\u003ethey are gone, gone,\u003cbr\u003emissing and missed\u003cbr\u003eand there’s no use being grateful,\u003cbr\u003efor their silence now takes up\u003cbr\u003eall the oxygen anyhow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGod, no one knows me like this.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMoving from my concrete days, my immovable schedule,\u003cbr\u003eto nights when I unravel in long loops\u003cbr\u003elike a knitted sweater.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI am someone else entirely.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNeedy and hazy, lonely and yet\u003cbr\u003edesperate to be alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGod, I need the sort of peace\u003cbr\u003ethat calms storms into bathtub water.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr the peace that folds origami\u003cbr\u003eout of the tight corners of my mind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI need peace like a weighted blanket,\u003cbr\u003ea hand over my heart,\u003cbr\u003eand this time you say it.\u003cbr\u003eYou say it like an oath.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou promise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou will not leave me here, like this,\u003cbr\u003eat the edge of where darkness meets darkness\u003cbr\u003ewhile the rest sleep soundly on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ereflection prompt\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFind a notepad or blank note on your phone. List three worries. Don’t judge them. No one has to see them. Now put them away and see if your mind can drift a little further than before. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e03\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen You’re Trapped in the Past \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIf I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.\u003c\/i\u003e —Psalm 139:8 (NIV)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe strangest aspect of a tragedy is how it can feel like it happened yesterday, even if it was years ago. (Proving, once again, that we can rarely say “Time heals all wounds!” with any confidence.) And many of us have had hard experiences that begin to feel like layers of sediment, one on top of the other. We can start to feel weighed down. Trapped. Buried alive. It reminds me of how C. S. Lewis described hell as a locked room, a room perhaps locked from the inside. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf you are starting to worry that the hurts of the past are making you feel claustrophobic, let’s try to get a little light in that room. This blessing imagines that revisiting our pain can feel like living in an old museum filled with what has happened. Let’s picture it and try to imagine that God is there. God is there when we are hurt. God is there when hurts are new or even when they are so old they bore people because we keep bringing them up. (Well, I wouldn’t be bringing it up if it didn’t still hurt, people!) So let’s consider our own “museums” for a moment and see if we can open some windows. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe flurry of dust particles\u003cbr\u003eonce invisible midair\u003cbr\u003ehave formed a thin film\u003cbr\u003eover an inalterable fact:\u003cbr\u003emy wounds are old now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI used to find a terrible comfort\u003cbr\u003ein fresh rage and tears—\u003cbr\u003ethis *just* happened\u003cbr\u003e—but time burned this urgency\u003cbr\u003eto a dull ash.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen you find me you’ll notice that\u003cbr\u003eI’ve opened a museum.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePay the admission at the door\u003cbr\u003e(it’s a token, any kindness really)\u003cbr\u003eand I’ll tell you all about\u003cbr\u003ethis person here, and that person there,\u003cbr\u003eand who laughed and who didn’t.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd what great losses moved everything\u003cbr\u003eout of the house and into boxes only to be\u003cbr\u003edisplayed here for your general interest.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut every feeling is cold to the touch.\u003cbr\u003eBless me, God, crowded out\u003cbr\u003eby all that I’ve endured.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUnburden me, packed so tightly\u003cbr\u003ein the memories of those\u003cbr\u003ewho loved me best\u003cbr\u003e(and worst, if I’m being honest).\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRelieve me of every fresh wave of guilt\u003cbr\u003eof all I’ve already forgotten.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBless me with enough forgetfulness\u003cbr\u003eto notice the way the sun\u003cbr\u003eis demanding another day\u003cbr\u003eand you can mind the storehouse\u003cbr\u003eof all I’ve loved\u003cbr\u003ewhile there’s time to gather more.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ereflection prompt\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSome of our old hurts become stories we retell without thinking. Is there a story we’re retelling that isn’t getting enough genuine attention? Try to bring it up again with someone you really trust to listen. You might say: “I know you’ve heard this before, but I’m still really hurting.”Author of Everything Happens for a Reason (And Other Lies I've Loved); New York Times bestseller","brand":"Convergent Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299929444581,"sku":"NP9780593727676","price":26.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593727676.jpg?v=1767728776","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/have-a-beautiful-terrible-day-isbn-9780593727676","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}