Grace and Forgiveness

I'm about half-way through Defying Gravity by Caroline Myss, my current spiritual read to begin my day. It's the second book of hers I've read, with a long gap in between. The title just pulled me in. On Tuesday I got to the section on Grace. She speaks of seven graces we each have the capacity to manifest, and begins with reverence.

Grace is a word that radiates a rich palette of beauty and meaning. I know the song, Amazing Grace, so well, yet I have rarely used the word. But it surfaced as a perfect description of my experience with my mom and those around her during her last few weeks of life. My cup overflowed with a profound sense of awe, wholeness, and gratitude, and my mind went back there on Tuesday. A couple hours later, I hit the lobby of my building and was nearly out the door, when my doorman, Michael, a generous, gregarious soul, says "Do you have 40 seconds?" What can I say but "yes." "I want to tell you a story," he says.

After spending Thanksgiving day with his parents, he goes to the attic to help clear out some things, and finds the guitar case of his beloved instrument from long ago. A sore point is triggered -- his parents gave it away to another family member when he left home, not with Mike's permission. It was sort of like leaving home and coming back to find your room converted to a gym or some such. But he didn't say anything about the old wound that day, just offered to take the case. At this point, Mike comes towards me from behind the desk, his subcompact digital camera in hand, and says, "Let me show you what I found that night being thrown away down the block from my parents when I was leaving." I reach for my glasses so I can see. There in the small frame is a picture of two guitars leaning against each other. One, he says is a near replica of the one his mom had given away. He pauses momentarily, while my amazement kicks in, then goes on. He is sure that if he had chosen to bring up that old wound, or as he says "slam an 80 year old woman" with it, he never would have found those guitars.

"I think you are so right," I say. I thanked him for sharing the story, and held in silence my thought, that is Grace. I marveled at the story coming to me on the heels of my reading, and know it is no accident. I'm open to understanding its message of forgiveness, fulfilling its wisdom,at the ripe time. For I know matters of the heart cannot be forced by the brain, a bat or dogma. There is a rhythm of the spirit, of Spirit.

Photo by thandiwe