This is Grace

I'm listening to Dido right now. The front porch is a good place for contemplating life. This last week has been a little hard for me. Ok, it's been very hard for me. I've been gone from home everyday this week. Life never slows down; have you ever noticed that? At first, it seems to crawl, but really, it's just plodding along at its own pace. Then more things happen, schedules fill up and things occasionally go wrong. You're lost in a rush of deadlines and conflicts. But you never stay hopelessly submerged.


This is Grace.

Life is like the small, unstable line on a heartbeat monitor. Each spasmodic jump records another valley and mountain of life. If we didn't have those mountains and valleys, we wouldn't exist. Not that they sustain life, but they are simply a natural part of it. No one's life is completely downhill nor is it completely uphill.

This is Grace.

Time plods on and you start another descent, somehow never dropping as far as you could. Just when you think that you'll never stop, you lightly touch the bottom of your valley. It's almost imperceptible, like landing softly in a stack of hay, or drifting gently until your feet grasp the sandy bottom of a lake, sending a miniature cloud of sand and dirt swirling into the clear depths. And, like a diver, you look up again towards where the refraction of light plays around the surface of the water, soft and luminous.


This is Grace.

You gaze fixedly up. Your breath has left you and darkness begins to wrap around the corners of your vision. A strong updraft begins to rise, inexplicably. Instinctively, you squint; the warm water caresses your face as you shoot up through the murkiness. The light grows more distinct and the darkness drops quickly below you. All you can do is look up. Finally, you break the surface. Thousands of crystal-clear droplets splinter into the air. Oxygen rushes into your lungs and the sensation tingles through your whole being. You're free.

This is Grace.

Thank you, Lord.

~Curtis~