Saying (and doing) Grace

I’ve been thinking a lot about grace.  Not a constant thing -- because, who has time?! -- but it has been sneaking around the back edges when I drive home from the gym, or check facebook, or consider some comments made by a friend.  You probably know that I’m not a very religious person.  Not anymore.  I’ll spare you my spiritual history, but I will tell you I was raised Southern Baptist in GA.  That bit of history is important because it informs how I think of the word “grace.” 

In a religious sense, it has a couple of meanings.  It can mean a prayer before eating, as in “Shelley, will you say grace?” (a question you really can’t answer in the negative.) It can also mean the act of God that forgives sins.  Grace is the acknowledgment of wrong and the release of responsibility for that wrong.  It is a letting go without turning away. 

I’m not sure many use “grace” as a prayer anymore.  It was that way in my grandparent’s home – on my dad’s side.  We had many family dinners, with heaping plates of casseroles and cobblers.  My grandfather had a daily prayer that served for all but the most formal events, when the floor might be given to someone more loquacious, but his version was this:

“Heavenly Father, pardon our sins.  Accept our thanks, for these and all thy many blessings.  Amen.”

Simple.  Probably some derivative of some formal prayer that, for him, ceased to be anything but part of the ceremony of dinner.  But I can tell you that it is imprinted in my and my brother’s head.  And it says a lot.  Forgive us.  And thank you.  We know you do a lot for us.  Bye. 

Strangely, this has connected in my mind with the facebook game where people tag one another and you have to list 3 or 5 things a day for 5 or 3 days.  Varies.  But the end result is you have 15 opportunities to be thankful.  I’m feeling pretty darn lucky at this point in my life, so it wasn’t hard, but the act of taking the time to be thankful – sitting down and writing the things that bring me pleasure, make me feel like this life is awesome, kick me in the pants and say “LOOK AT ME.  I’m beautiful.”—that was fantastic.  Because I am grateful.  I really enjoy being alive.  I don’t know if that’s because I had my cancer diagnosis so young and it made me a little more aware or if I’m just one of those floaty, daydreamer types that gets lost in the light in the clouds.  Doesn’t matter.  I am thankful. 

But grace is not just about being thankful.  It’s also about the wisdom of staying open.  For me, and I venture to say –for everyone—that’s harder than being thankful.  It means considering others in a way thankfulness does not.  We allow them to step away from guilt or shame or anger without recrimination.  Sometimes, I guess, they don’t step away.  The life they choose to live is one we don’t like.  And, the way I see it, we don’t have to like their life.  Their mistakes, their wrongs, their poor judgment, are theirs.  We hold them to society’s rules.  God holds them to his.  We, if we’re strong, we give them grace.  We don’t shut them out.  We don’t turn away. 

I’ve been talking about God like he’s a part of my life and he’s really not, but he is part of how I think about grace.  If there is an ultimate example of forgiveness, I think the Bible gives us that.  I think the gift of Christianity is that it is inclusive; you don’t have to be born into it.  It is a community you can join.  Just by being born, we have all been thrown into this community where we share our feelings, our pictures, our accomplishments, and – yes – what we are thankful to have.  It is a technological world and a world where human interaction is changing.  We can express ourselves in ways I never dreamed would exist when I was a freshman in college.  That time for me was eye-opening: so many different people, so many different views.  And we were all desperate to share and be heard.  This time seems like a world-wide freshman year.  (I didn’t handle freshman year all that gracefully.)

So I want to handle this time gracefully.  I have children who I want to grow up to be big-hearted and accepting.  I want them to love this world and love the people in it.  I want to model that life for them.  However, I’m a pretty judgmental girl.  I say that to be fair.  Because I’m also honest.  I struggle with stupid people and mean people and evil people.  I also have to say I think I’m pretty good at letting other people do their thing if they aren’t mean or evil.  It might have to do with how little I care about their thing, but still.  If there is a God, and he made us in his image, maybe that allowed him to see us as worth saving.  Seeing that promise in each other is a challenge. 

My son is autistic.  Very mildly.  But it makes him weird sometimes.  He has annoying behaviors.  He doesn’t get social cues.  It can irritate me.   I also love him very much.  He is a tremendous joy.  He is sweet and smart and helpful.  And he’s funny.  However, there are certain things he just can’t do.  He cannot control some of his tics – which come out like disrespectful obstinacy.  He cannot be a sunny, personable kid in the face of frustration.  He is close to my heart.  He’s my first and he’s probably the most like me.  So, maybe it is easier to give him grace.  Sometimes, on a good day, I can look at him and let it go.  I can see past his difficulties, his bad choices and I can just love him completely.  I can be thankful for everything that he is, the whole package.  That, to me, is grace. 

Someday, I hope my grace extends much, much further.  I hope that I can connect with the little bit of me that is in everyone, despite religion or political affiliation or just plain stupidity.  And that I can love them as completely as I love my son.  But, for now, I’m thankful for this.  Amen.