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As an adolescent, I went to charm school, where I learned to pour tea and relate to boys, which, as I recall, meant giving them the pickle jar to unscrew, whether it was too hard for me or not.

Sue Monk Kidd

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Sue Monk Kidd
Age: 76
Born: 1948
Born: August 12
Novelist
Writer
Sylvester
Georgia
Giving
Relate
Pickles
Meant
Adolescent
Boys
Jars
Learned
Pour
Went
Recall
Whether
Recalls
School
Tea
Unscrew
Hard
Charm
Pickle

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Journal became a sanctuary where I could pour out in honesty my pain and joy. It recorded my footsteps and helped me understand where I was standing, where I had been, and even where God pointed.
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You create a path of your own by looking within yourself and listening to your soul, cultivating your own ways of experiencing the sacred and then practicing it. Practicing until you make it a song that sings you.
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I learned a long time ago that some people would rather die than forgive. It's a strange truth, but forgiveness is a painful and difficult process. It's not something that happens overnight. It's an evolution of the heart.
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I said, If I was a Negro girl- He placed his fingers across my lips so I tasted his saltiness. We can't think of changing our skin, he said. Change the world-that's how we gotta think.
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You have to find a mother inside yourself. We all do. Even if we already have a mother, we still have to find this part of ourselves inside
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I believe in the goodness of imagination.
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the feminine journey is a story unfolding, and its epiphanies come through real things, through tangibles like walking sticks and dreams and deer antlers--all of which we might miss without taking time and space in Deep Being.
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History is not just facts and events. History is also a pain in the heart and we repeat history until we are able to make another's pain in the heart our own.
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You don't have to place your hand on Mary's heart to get strength and consolation and rescue, and all the other things we need to get through life. You can place it right here on your own heart. Your own heart.
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If you aren't giving people something to talk about, you've become too dull.
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Still everyone, including the abbot, had said that he was running away from his grief. They'd had no idea what they were talking about. He'd cradled his grief, almost to the point of loving it. For so long he refused to give it up, because leaving it behind was like leaving her.
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All my life I've thought I needed someone to complete me, now I know I need to belong to myself.
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Standing there, I loved myself and I hated myself. That's what the black Mary did to me, made me feel my glory and my shame at the same time.
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I'd heard August say more than once, If you need something from somebody, always give that person a way to hand it to you. T. Ray needed a face-saving way to hand me over, and August was giving it to him.
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I worried so much about how I looked and whether I was doing things right, I felt half the time I was impersonating a girl instead of really being one.
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So I taught Sunday school and brought dishes to all manner of potlucks and tried to adjust the things I heard from the pulpit to my increasingly incongruent faith.
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