A friend of mine who recently lost her husband, signed off an email with…
Walk in Grace.
I didn’t think much of it at the time, yet it keeps appearing in my thoughts like a faint, flicker of light.
She certainly has honed the skill, so beautiful and stoic, loss trailing behind her like a somber lady’s maid.
The word addict that I am, went to the heart of it like a curious scientist taking it apart at the seams…simple elegance of refinement or movement. Courteous goodwill…a polite, attractive manner of behaving, according to Mr. Webster.
To take it up a notch…the free and undeserved favor of God…the salvation of sinners…a bestowing of blessings bringing one to their knees.
Wow! Did I unleash a power greater than myself, religion going up a quart since, there are no atheists in a foxhole, said Hemingway, and collectively can’t deny, we all find ourselves in one, from time to time.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound.
Grace under fire.
Will and Grace…
Grace Slick singing…Don’t you want somebody to love?
What exactly does grace mean to me personally?
That I’m no longer ashamed of my hearing loss, allowing it to be a part of me same as my humor and short, black hair.
When a person is rude and impatient when I ask if they’d please speak up or look at me, and it’s too much to ask.
Thinking of Hicks in a cold grave in Mississippi, when he should be warming up in the on-deck circle ready to hit another grand slam.
When I see a homeless person wrapped in newspapers as I head home to heat and comfort.
There but for the grace of God go I.
Well that certainly sums it up.
Anne Lamott says, I do not at all understand the mystery of grace…only that it meets us where we are, and does not leave us where it found us.
How bout we just leave it at that.