Kindness, compassion, grace may be offered with a light touch but are never tossed off lightly.
It costs. It always costs to give. Perhaps not too much, but cost it does. The phone call in the middle of the night: time to get over to St. Francis Hospital to deliver a baby. There are guests who show up (with warning)on your anniversary, two days before you're leaving for a seventeen day vacation and you still have to get the boat out of the water and take down the dock.
And the response is to give with a light touch, naturally, easily, graciously.
Grace, that's grace. To be so possessed by it oneself that it is simply what you do, graciously share your gifts, your joy, your wisdom with others.
I am so grateful for everything Kathie and Phil taught me about grace this week. They let me help pull the boat out of the water and onto the trailer, a brave move. They trusted me with Molly the golden retriever and Fluffy the bird.
What does grace look like? Salmon without pepper if it's pepper you don't prefer. Candles on the anniversary table. Long hours at the medical practice followed by long hours on the internet searching for pertinent information. Facilitating a hospice group conversation.
It all sounds sort of ordinary. But it isn't. Not ever. Every act of grace is a choice. Every act of grace has an opposite. Grace is a choice.
With a light touch, lots of laughter, and bowls of blueberries, Kathie and Phil choose grace.
What a gift!