It’s funny, you know, how synchronicity works. Is it the universe, or is it just our awareness that, once awoken, identifies thematic connections surrounding us? Me. Us?
Not three days ago, my beloved Aunt asked me what I think of “grace.” She wrote, “Is grace for real? What is grace? How does it work? What are the benefits and sacrifices we face if we were to bestow or receive grace? Can grace hurt? Is it worth the effort? Does grace have a leg to stand on in this day and age?”
Could she possibly have known that from a very young age, Dad has ironically called me Grace precisely for my lack thereof? Physical grace eludes me; I trip, I fall, I’ve peed my pants at a bonfire laughing too hard, and, generally speaking, am the klutziest girl you’ve likely met. If this lack of grace only applied to my physical life, what a boon that would be – yet it does not. Since childhood, I’ve had an inability to handle others in social situations gracefully, too. Perhaps precisely because I can sniff discontent – disagreement – within relationships, I tend to insert myself in an effort to smooth things over. Each time, inevitably, I’d fail.
Thankfully, today I find myself attached to a man who recognizes that my lack of grace is no real fault, per se. Perhaps it is social ineptitude, but it stems from a place of love and authenticity. It stems from a place of empathy and discomfort in social tension.
In any case, I’ll spend some more time on grace in my private journals because there are so very many forms of it (physical, social, forgiveness, etc.) – but for now, let me leave it at this: if we do not BEGIN with extending grace to OURSELVES for our own imperfections, insecurities, failures, and humanity, how can we possibly expect to bestow grace upon others?
Grace is just yet another oxygen mask condition. Place yours on your face before attempting to help others.