That's Grace

Sometimes I feel like I am learning so much I can’t contain it all. It propels me forward at an ungodly pace, asking for more, reaching for something new, hungry to let go of all fear, reservations, encumbrances and pre-judgments, there is a deep calling to finally live.

A by-product of going through terrible things, is, sometimes, they bring you the very thing you were always hoping for. Most of us have an image we think we fulfill. We see ourselves a certain way. It’s like looking in the mirror, walking out of the house, but then someone takes a picture of you when you see it, it’s not what you remember from the mirror.

I had what I thought I was, what I thought I could be. Without knowing, I never was even close to it. When that image gets shed, it’s painful. Everything has to be re-learned and understood from a completely new perspective and it is humbling to say the least.

I’m irresponsible. A lot more irresponsible than I thought. There are times, I make decisions and later I think, “What the hell was I thinking?” I come off way stronger than I thought I did. I do everything on a 10. I’m black and white. I’m naïve. Incredibly naïve. I’m impatient and my wisdom finds itself more in platitudes than in action. I’m fearful. I’m scared of freaking everything. I want to be courageous, but really, I’m a freaking chicken. I’m bitchy sometimes. When you stop caring about whether or not people like you and you start actually having feelings, you get bitchy. It’s weird. I have an opinion about everything. EVERYTHING. I even find myself annoying. There are times I hear myself talking and I think, “You ass, just stop. Seriously, shut up.” And then I keep talking.

But, on the other side of pain, on the upside of healing, when you have found yourself in the dirt enough times, when you have reached out and landed so flat on your face you don't want to look up; when your sex life has become family gossip or you wake up on a Saturday morning with a $50 hang-over wondering what you may have said to your boss at happy hour that you wish you could take back and you spend more nights baking than out with friends or the times you go out with friends and it takes you your camera and your credit card statement to figure out what happened, something finally clicks. You start laughing. It gets ridiculous. You look backward, than forward, than back again, and you just have to laugh. You think "I'm a disaster!" and it doesn't bother you. You realize having it all together is overrated, and even when it's painful, life is a lot more fun messy.

Well, I’m still breathing, I’m still moving, I’m still learning, growing… so there still must be hope. Life is going to come and go, people are going to come and go, pain is going to come and go, but none of that matters. Next week most people will forget what stupid thing I said. God is still going to be God, I am still going to be me and life is still going to happen.

Life isn’t lived when you are too afraid to partake in it, but ironically, it takes a sincere understanding of grace before being able to truly feel the dirt beneath your feet, the sun, the rain; the cement when it smacks you in the face, and the wind when you learn how to soar. The pain, and surviving it, is what has taught me to stop fearing it. Feeling the judgment of others is what relieved the worry of being judged. Healing from betrayal is what has taught me the importance of trust. I’ve learned how resilient I am, how good God really is, and why most of the people around me need to be ignored. I learned you can’t know what grace and mercy are until you are desperate for them. And most of the time, the only reason you are desperate for them is because you have screwed something up so bad, or hurt someone you love, or are paying the consequences of your own stupid decision. Even more than that, what you learn is, if you aren’t making the mistakes, most likely, you aren’t really living life.

When you step into the flow of life, risking, taking chances, wanting to really live rather than just sit and watch it go by, you find yourself face down in the gutter more often than in the clouds. But it’s the only way you learn. Getting wrong, screwing it up, making an ass of yourself and others, it’s what gives you the stories you laugh about with your friends over mimosas Sunday morning. The mistakes, the flaws, the moments you almost regret, you can’t stick your hand out and not get burned sometimes. We forget that controversy breeds change, that challenge and pain creates creativity.

I’ve said it before, but every day it takes on a new meaning and level: grace must wound. It’s inevitable. You have to feel stupid to laugh at yourself. You have to know how strong you are to balance the fragile; you have to know how to be both to understand true vulnerability and relationship. You risk knowing how much something might hurt, but also knowing you will survive.

I’m beginning to remember who I am and to find out who I might be one day. I’m not the picture of perfection and I becoming more and more comfortable with that. My Radio Flyer of baggage is starting to look more like a scrap book of places, people and things that I have collected, bringing with me a diversity of experiences and lessons. I’ve spent a lifetime searching for a grace that would free me and allow me to live a life free of fear, but I had to get desperate enough, angry enough and feel stupid enough to allow it to be true.

I had a conversation with my sister the other day in which I saw unfold a very typical circumstance. She is super pissed at me for a perceived betrayal and went on the offensive attacking my relationship with God. Normally that would wound me to the enth degree, but as my perspective has shifted, as my knowledge of Him and His heart, of who He really is, of knowing who I really am, for once, I got to step back and laugh rather than cry.

I made an agreement with Jesus a while ago clearly knowing that He and I will never part, never be away from each other, never be anything but completely committed to each other, but also knowing in His infinite wisdom, He has to understand I am working in the dark here. I’m fumbling around, fucking it up, landing hard, redefining what I believe, testing new waters, letting doubt be covered by trust and being an adult enough to let go of my parents faith. I’m going to get it wrong, I’m going to do stupid things, but neither will He be surprised, nor angered. In fact, I think He’s pretty proud. I’m doing the one thing He said to do: go live. He gave me talents and I am not burying it in a field because I understand my master isn’t going to beat me if I lose it all. If I end up with egg on my face, acting like a jackass, He will come along, pick me up and say, “Well, it was a great show on the way down. I know I was entertained.” Then He will smile, I will role my eyes and we will both laugh. Because you have to. That is grace.