A private epiphany: How I came to revel in the pursuit of grace
For years, a pastor at my church distributed 鈥渟tar words鈥� on Epiphany Sunday, the day my congregation celebrated the Magi following the star to baby Jesus. Each yellow paper star was printed with a word like 鈥渓oyalty,鈥� 鈥減atience,鈥� 鈥渆nthusiasm,鈥� 鈥渋ntegrity,鈥� 鈥渉umor,鈥� and 鈥渏oy.鈥� These words were meant to challenge and encourage us to travel more meaningful paths in the year ahead.
As I dipped my hand into the word basket, my pulse quickened. I didn鈥檛 have time for 鈥減atience鈥� or 鈥渓isten,鈥� and words like 鈥渟ervant鈥� and 鈥渄evotion鈥� made me feel inadequate. Pawing in the basket, I searched for an easy word I could handle, like 鈥渘ap,鈥� 鈥渞est,鈥� or maybe 鈥渧acation.鈥�
The word my hand selected? 鈥淕race.鈥�
Why We Wrote This
Self-improvement is hard. Our essayist finds that a simple pendant helps her to focus on what matters most: love, kindness, and grace.
Slumping in the pew, I shrank into myself. Did this mean God鈥檚 grace? The love I鈥檇 already been given? Or was this something harder, like reflecting His unconditional love by showing it to others?
I knew the answer. This was the grace I needed to give, the love I so often neglected to share with the world.
The paper star squished in my palm. It would be easy to toss it in the trash or conveniently forget about it. Maybe I could hide it inside a hymnal? I squirmed, twisting my necklace between my fingertips.
Like a bolt of lightning, it hit me. A necklace. I could wear the word 鈥済race鈥� around my neck as a tangible reminder to show others unconditional love.
Ordering an engraved pendant online was easy and inexpensive. When it arrived, I secured it around my neck, took a deep breath, and set to work.
I started small, letting other shoppers pass ahead of me in the grocery store line and chatting with the checkout clerk instead of rushing through self-checkout. While leaving the store, I slowed to let a car back out of a parking space. I was feeling mighty proud of myself until my good intentions were answered by the angry blare of a car horn. Apparently, the car behind me wasn鈥檛 happy with my new graceful attitude.
I continued with small gestures of kindness, like opening doors, plucking sticks from my neighbor鈥檚 yard, and complimenting strangers.聽
But these acts felt woefully small compared with the acts of grace I spotted around me, such as my husband driving a church member to a surgical appointment, my sister sending supportive letters and texts to my college-aged daughter, and my cousin caring for her aging parents with unwavering love. Her grace and sacrifice left me in utter awe.
鈥淵ou鈥檒l never believe what happened at the garden center,鈥� my 90-year-old mother said, her voice popping with excitement during a phone call.聽
鈥淚 explained to the lady behind me in line that I was buying plants to take to the cemetery. When she heard they were for my late husband鈥檚 grave, she said she wanted to pay for them. She wouldn鈥檛 take no for an answer.鈥�
I touched my necklace. I wanted to exude that kind of love. I felt as if I wasn鈥檛 doing enough until a conversation clued me in that I might be headed in the right direction.
鈥淥h, so you鈥檙e going to give her a pass?鈥� a friend said when I answered her criticism of a colleague by reminding her of the woman鈥檚 many positive qualities.
I squeezed my 鈥済race鈥� pendant, suppressing my tendency to gossip. 鈥淵eah,鈥� I said. 鈥淚 guess I am.鈥�
鈥淥K,鈥� she responded with a smile.
This year, instead of selecting a new star word, I clasp my 鈥済race鈥� pendant around my neck and consider how I can continue to live into the word.
Surely, I will fall short.聽
Did I gossip last year? Bicker with my spouse? Let too many days pass before checking in on my mother and young adult children?聽
Yes, on all counts. (Thank goodness for God鈥檚 grace!)
But I know I can begin anew each day. This year, I鈥檒l inch forward, slide a few steps back, and then inch forward again.聽
It鈥檚 the forward motion that matters. The knowledge that, with intent, I can move closer to a grace-filled life.
