Grace

If you asked my closest family and friends to describe me, they'd come up with a whole slew of adjectives.  I imagine ones like boisterous, abrasive at times, funny, judgmental, harsh, giving, unemotional, biting, loyal.  But graceful?  No.  Graceful would never be uttered when describing me.  In fact, if you asked me a year ago, I probably couldn't even give you an accurate description of what grace is.  And surely, it showed. 

On New Year's Eve 2013, a cup of urine changed my life.  As I sat on the edge of the tub, watching that second pink line appear, I felt such an overwhelming feeling of divine grace.  For two years, I wanted that second pink line.  Every night, for two years, I prayed for that line.  And as my shaking hands held that white stick, I couldn't help but thank God for His grace.  And then, of course, the whirlwind began.  I flung our bedroom door open and showed my husband the line and a nine month celebration began and our sweet son was born and everything we've ever wanted was ours.  But in the back of my mind there was an echo.  Grace.


I can't remember where I heard it--but I once listened to a speech, or a sermon, or read a blog where someone said all his life, he wanted God to help him control his temper.  He would drive down the road, someone would cut him off, and he'd yell obscenities and carry the anger with him all day--so at night he asked God to take that anger away from him.  But does God just cure you, or does He give you the opportunity to control your temper?

For me, it's grace.

It started with that second pink line, but all year, I had the opportunity to experience grace--though I didn't quite know it.

When a friend let me down, I had the opportunity to be kind, when I didn't want to be.
When an acquaintance made some strange and unkind observations about the possibility of miscarrying, I had the opportunity to be forgiving, when I wanted to be sarcastic and ugly.
When I watched a family members argue, I had the opportunity to speak love where contributing would have been easy.
When my husband expressed neglect after our new baby, I had the opportunity to be empathetic and self reflective, when complaining about tiredness and preoccupation seemed valid.

So that's what grace has meant for me.  It means being generous to those who don't deserve it.  It means showing kindness when you want to bite.  It means forgiving and bringing love to the table.  Above all, it means loving as God has loved us.

As I grow older, I'm more and more convinced that you earn the gifts God gives you.

So tonight, we toast to the opportunities.