working on a state of grace
Do you ever hear something that is so simple--maybe you've even heard it before or thought it before and understand it on an intellectual level--but this time the simple thing smacks you between the eyes like it's a completely new thought and you understand it on a deeper, emotional, cellular level?
That happened to me in church on Sunday, and in light of recent sad events, the thing was pounded home in the hardest way. My friend's one and half year old grandson died this weekend and we, his group of online friends for ten years running, are grieving for a little boy we'd watched grow and laugh through the loving eyes of his grandpa. Back to Sunday-- Reverend Bill is a very charismatic guy. He has a way of cutting through the b.s. If he wasn't a Unitarian Universalist, he'd make a damned good Evangelical. But fortunately for me, he's a UU, and instead of painting a vivid picture of hellfire and the damnation of my soul, he is up there painting a picture of the hell that exists right now on earth and, more importantly, what we can do about it. And the beauty and grace of the here and now...he talks a lot about that too. But yesterday, in the middle of talking about something else, he suddenly said, "Growing old is a gift. It's a gift that not all of us are given. Enjoy it for the wonderful gift it is."
Ok, I think a lot about growing old gracefully. The more my knees hurt. The more my skin lumps and sags. The more I look at my parents, and even my partner and friends, with concern for their health. While I am learning to appreciate the wisdom and the gray hairs, I fight
against aspects of it like it's a disease. But then a wake up call, and I am reminded, like a smack to the head, that it's not just about surviving and accepting--it's a gift! A wonderful gift! A gift that not all of us get. I've known many people who didn't get the gift, and oh, how we mourn their loss. How we start to wonder if we, ourselves, are worthy of the gift. Or I see those who offer up nothing but complaint and judgement, who don't appreciate this wonderful gift or put it to any good use at all.
I want to be worthy of the gift.
I want to be grateful for the gift.
That happened to me in church on Sunday, and in light of recent sad events, the thing was pounded home in the hardest way. My friend's one and half year old grandson died this weekend and we, his group of online friends for ten years running, are grieving for a little boy we'd watched grow and laugh through the loving eyes of his grandpa. Back to Sunday-- Reverend Bill is a very charismatic guy. He has a way of cutting through the b.s. If he wasn't a Unitarian Universalist, he'd make a damned good Evangelical. But fortunately for me, he's a UU, and instead of painting a vivid picture of hellfire and the damnation of my soul, he is up there painting a picture of the hell that exists right now on earth and, more importantly, what we can do about it. And the beauty and grace of the here and now...he talks a lot about that too. But yesterday, in the middle of talking about something else, he suddenly said, "Growing old is a gift. It's a gift that not all of us are given. Enjoy it for the wonderful gift it is."
Ok, I think a lot about growing old gracefully. The more my knees hurt. The more my skin lumps and sags. The more I look at my parents, and even my partner and friends, with concern for their health. While I am learning to appreciate the wisdom and the gray hairs, I fight
against aspects of it like it's a disease. But then a wake up call, and I am reminded, like a smack to the head, that it's not just about surviving and accepting--it's a gift! A wonderful gift! A gift that not all of us get. I've known many people who didn't get the gift, and oh, how we mourn their loss. How we start to wonder if we, ourselves, are worthy of the gift. Or I see those who offer up nothing but complaint and judgement, who don't appreciate this wonderful gift or put it to any good use at all.
I want to be worthy of the gift.
I want to be grateful for the gift.
Comments
how do i forget this stuff?
maybe it's because i'm aging???
thanks dearheart.
Ava south