grace

Let's call her Grace. The woman struggling to support herself on our cast offs. Pushing her stolen shopping cart, her sorting system a series of bags tied to the outside. Her load uneven and wobbling on the broken pavement of King Street. I want to pat myself on the back for pulling over. I want congratulations and adulation for popping my trunk, pulling out the bag of returnables I've been driving around with and asking, like a fool, if she could use them. Let's call her Grace because she was gracious. Thankful without being effusive. Smiling. Bright-eyed. Focused on her work. 

Twice already this week the abstract concept of grace - grace with a lower-case G - has come up in my life. First Erika at RedHead Writing wrote about grace and crying and acting as if. It reminded me of an important lesson I'd learned last week from MissC - that you can't expect grace from people you don't trust with the whole story. And that when I show them the grace of sharing, the grace they show in return is ten-fold. 

And then yesterday at the most engaging and interesting networking lunch I've ever attended (if you're a business person of faith in Victoria and interested in networking with other business people of faith, shoot me a comment and I'll give you the details) we were reminded, before the discussion part of the afternoon, of the 4 rules of the group:

1. Don't be a jerk
2. Don't be a wuss
3. Have fun
4. Have grace

I love that combination. In fact, they seem somewhat repetitive, but perhaps they are the inner and out manifestations of each other - someone who has grace is unlikely to be a jerk. If you're having fun, you're less likely to wimp out. But what really struck me was the opportunity to have fun and grace simultaneously. 

I haven't been having - or been - a lot of fun lately. Despite all of STG's best efforts, I just haven't seemed to have the energy. He has shown me grace in this. As have friends like SC2 who invited me away for a weekend and didn't require any entertainment from me. People have shown me abundant grace. 

And now I'm ready to try to have some fun. I returned to my choir last night, at STG's prodding, and while it took an hour to get into it, I eventually remember that I love the music, to sing, to feel the words, to let myself move and be moved.

This fun thing is a weak muscle for me. I might look like I'm faking it at first, but I'm sure I'll remember how it works soon enough.