I love the word Grace and all that it implies. Elegance. Beauty. Favor. Goodwill. Mercy. And the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God.
Two people have used this word a lot in conversations with me. One of them is my dear friend Anna Evensen, and the other is my therapist. Anna believes Vic and I have been handling things with so much grace. I don't know if I agree with her, but I love hearing her say that word. As a dancer, this word holds heavy meaning for me. Combined with my faith in God, the word grace speaks loudly to me with thick description. When I tell my therapist stories of emails we've received, miracles that have happened, support we are given, she just looks at me and says, "Grace." She is not a member of my faith.
I went to Girls Camp yesterday. I was loved and hugged by beautiful Young Women from my ward and branch. I cried. I felt the spirit. I thought about Lucy. I went on a walk with the Young Women's president. We spoke of life, struggles, homosexuality, miscarriages, marriage, and the church. I loved every second of being with her. I could be myself. I could be honest. I could cry and question and laugh. It was what I needed and it was a gift of grace from my Heavenly Father.
When I got in my car to drive home, I sobbed. Someone who has lost a child is always on the verge of tears. It is right there beneath the surface. Like a baby chick anxious to burst from its shell; it waits for the right quiet moment to show itself. I am laughing, and it is there. I am running, and it is there. I am dancing and it is there. And eventually it pours out. I called my sister, I prayed, I drove in silence and thought. And when I turned onto my road, there was another gift of grace. A rainbow. The end of the rainbow lay directly over the fire station in the spot of grass where Lucy's body laid on May 18th. The spot where angels awaited ushering her into heaven. The spot where I prayed harder and more fervently than ever before in my life. The spot where paramedics and friends tried effortlessly to revive Lucy and to comfort me. It was right there. Beautiful and bright. I stopped the car and took a picture. I said a prayer of thanks. I breathed deeply for just a second. Grace.
I haven't stopped crying for very long since then. Sleep didn't come easily last night. I fell into a restless nap this morning and had my first dream about Lucy. In it, she appeared in my doorway. She peeked her head around the door frame with a smile that said, "Come and get me mom!" I was tired and didn't want to get up, but I did. I chased her down the hallway, following her bouncing curls and scooped her into my arms. I tickled her and laughed with her and was enveloped in complete joy. I remember thinking, "Why don't I do this more? Why don't I play with her and make her laugh and enjoy her more? It makes me happy. She is RIGHT HERE." And then she was gone. And I was awake in my bed. Alone. I know what the dream was telling me, it is the same message I got while wake boarding last week. Lucy wants me to get up. She wants me to live my life. But it is not easy. And it is especially not easy for me today. But the dream was a gift of Grace.
-the influence or spirit of God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them.
-to lend or add grace to
-to favor or honor
-moral strength: the grace to perform a duty.
-mercy; clemency; pardon: an act of grace
-a manifestation of favor, esp. by a superior
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