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Writer's pictureVirginia St. Claire

Grace

I have a vision of a great pouring out showering down on us all from off in the heavens. Great streams of light . . . not surprising with my love of water, the light has a great liquid flow to it. I can’t see the Source of the light, but the sense I have of it is a stronghold of goodness and love. Here we are, standing in the deluge, perfectly held and at the same time flooded with light. If life is as I envision it, what an exciting adventure it is to be human on this planet.

I didn’t always feel that way, of course. Sometimes I think I’ve had more than my share of Sturm und Drang (Storm and Stress), yet as I wander this world nearly everyone I meet has a story as harrowing as the one I tell myself. And somehow I’ve not only survived it all, but have come to love this life and revel in the daily beauty that is given without my doing anything to ‘earn’ it.

Thinking about the body alone boggles the rational mind: Since before my birth, my heart has ceaselessly moved blood carrying oxygen and nourishment to every cell. Even before my birth, oxygen was delivered with utmost efficiency through the grace of my mother, and since birth, my lungs have breathed in and out without pause. My heart beating and my body breathing are miracle enough for me to be dazzled by the mystery of life. 

Grace? The word grace comes from the Latin gratia, meaning ‘favor’ or ‘thanksgiving’. The idea that grace showers on us all whether we know it or not, whether we wish it or not . . . That there is ‘one’ pouring love on us, in us, through us, from us to one another . . . These thoughts bring their own bright wonderment. 

Who or what might that ‘one’ be? Because we are blessed with thinking minds, we humans try to make sense of life. We lean into the mystery and make up stories about why we’re here, what’s going on, how we’re supposed to relate to ourselves, the world, one another. Through the milennia we’ve postulated gods and goddesses; religions have been born; we’ve found ourselves in cultures that have shaped us. What remains is mystery. We really don’t know. 

What do we know? We know we are here. Perhaps that is all, and it is enough. Enough to stay, enough to awaken each day, open our eyes to the sweetness and beauty of the day, enough to celebrate what is and be glad of the gift of life. Difficulties may come; they seem an inevitable part of the journey. What to do? Perhaps we can ride them like a wave. Knowing that everything is always changing, we ride, keep our eyes open, and keep breathing. May we sense the light pouring on us even in the darkest of days, may we brave the wave, ride it with all our might until it reaches whatever shore is awaiting us next on our journey.




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