Grace

And grace shall bring us home

8809 Lowell Street ©1957

When we moved to 8809 Lowell Street in the summer of 1956, our house was new, my sister was an infant, and I was four and free to roam… the backyards, that is. Full neighborhood roaming didn’t start until I was a much older and wiser 1st grader. I find all this hard to believe now, but back in the 50s everything was different. All the Moms knew each other, and all the kids roamed, and nobody worried about their children’s safety.

For example, when I was in 1st grade, my neighbors, the Cornnell boys, would walk home from school occasionally. I was smitten with the youngest boy, Mike, and asked if I could walk home with them. Knowing that the two older boys would be accompanying us, the mothers said, “OK.” I only did it once because a) it was a 1.5-mile walk, and b) Mike’s brothers went on ahead of us, and we were left to amble home together on that hot, sweaty day. Two first graders in Catholic school uniforms walking alone through a neighborhood that wasn’t even theirs. I didn’t tell my mom because I didn’t want to get into trouble. But I digress.

The route we took home

All the backyards in my neighborhood had fences. I don’t know why, but it was a thing. I was proficient at climbing them. I could choose to walk four houses down the street to the Guffey’s house, or climb four fences. Even the homeowners without kids didn’t mind us taking the “shortcut” through their backyards. The Seiberts lived behind us. They eventually adopted two children, and I climbed that fence almost daily, spending a lot of time there as a mother’s helper when I wasn’t in school.

So what’s grace got to do with this story? One day, in the backyard catty-corner to my yard, a girl appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. She was visiting her grandmother. Her name was Grace, and to my 7-year-old mind, she was grace embodied, beautiful, graceful, kind, and dare I say radiant. I knew about grace, God’s grace, saying grace, Hail Mary full of grace, grace as a gift from God. I didn’t know one could be named Grace. She must have lived far away because I only saw her a few times, but she somehow left a profound and permanent impression on me, or maybe it was just the fact that she was named Grace. I didn’t want to be Grace, but I wanted grace. Even at that young age, I knew grace was an important aspect of character.

I wanted to be graceful, full of grace, and radiating grace. I wasn’t aware of any division between secular and non-secular grace. Having grace was how I wanted to move through the world. Of course, you’d never know it. I was the ultimate tomboy. I was the only girl in the “gang” of boys. At the time, I thought girls were too silly and frilly. Remember those poofy petticoats girls wore in the 50s? I never got to wear one as my Mom wanted her girls to be classy and classic. Grace Kelly and Jackie Kennedy were her role models. A-line was her thing. It left a mark. I think I still dress somewhat classic to this day, relaxed, classic, of course.

What exactly is grace? Here’s what it means to me. It is a form of knowledge, a feeling, something that guides emotions and actions. It could be about someone becoming their best self. I started a list of qualities I think someone with grace would embody:

kind
caring
calm
encouraging
non-judgmental
positive
patient
empathetic
understanding
tolerant
vulnerable
compassionate
forgiveness

What would you add? What does grace mean to you?

To me, grace is a way of being and moving through the world. Grace is a smile.

Quotes of the Week

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.
Anne Lamott

We keep forgetting that truly creative results happen by grace rather than effort and planning.
Shaun McNiff

Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them.
The least we can do is try to be there.
Annie Dillard

The heads of strong old age are beautiful beyond all grace of youth.
Robinson Jeffers

For grace to be grace, it must give us things we didn't know we needed and take us places where we didn't know we didn't want to go.
Kathleen Norris

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PS. Stay tuned for my post on my week in Guanajuato, Mexico, at an art workshop.