So, I've been thinking about death. And life. And friendship and fears and a multitude of such heavy, ponderous things. And I wanted to come here and sort it out and share but I feel inept because the subjects are vast and complex and because I've been out of flow and out of practice... but here I am. So, please forgive if my fingers and my mind don't do justice.
One of my closest friends lost her step-father last week. And this morning we got caught up. I had no words so I listened.
And what can I even say now, here?
Only that maybe death is an opportunity to see grace fall. Grace, like rain. A downpour, drenching and we can either turn our faces heavenward and let our tears mercifully mingle with the soaking sky or we can try and hide, stay dry all the while knowing that at some point we won't be able to escape.
This, the only awkward way I can find to describe how I felt as my friend spoke of her family's closeness, their wisdom, their journey through the pain. My first thoughts were that they were 'handling' it well. But that word handling didn't seem to do it justice. Neither did the words, accepting or embracing. So, contemplating, listening, I just thought of grace. Grace given, grace shown. Grace bestowed. Grace like rain. Rain received with grace. And how when someone possesses grace, when they've been given grace -it shines, creating a prism of color for all to bear witness to God's goodness.