grateful

“Do you mind if I turn on sports?”  Mario has cooled the room down to 60 degrees and I’m wearing a jacket now.  My side of the bed (and my desk) is next to the cooler, which he has graciously shut off.  

We’ve just returned from a big bar-b-que party at Vince’s house (he smoked lots of meat and Rikki even made her potato salad – even though she’s so pregnant) to our hotel room, a simple suite that I am grateful for.

“No, I guess not,” I manage to sound frustrated.  Watching sports is not a pleasurable thing for me and unfortunately it shows. 

“I don’t have to watch it,” he offers.

“No, go ahead.  I’m not writing, so the noise won’t bother me.”

After a drive-by of twitter and facebook (my phone has no service so instagram has been a no-go), I can’t help but pull up word and spill.  Spill what’s inside of me on to the page.  Spill out the day and the desires and dreams inside.  It’s just a blog, I think.  Just a quick note about my day; a journal entry that others can view...  just a blog.

In this blog I will say that my first-born son is about to have his first child be born into this world.  Her name will be Scarlett Star.  We’ve just come from Boston to celebrate with my Dad – 80 years - and now I’m about to have a baby granddaughter.  I feel like I’m walking down a hallway between Mars and Jupiter and am able to touch both planets – able to see my life stretch out on both sides and smile.

I want to be truly vulnerable and say that there is no way in the world that I should have been given the gift of travelling with my parents to Boston and celebrate Dad’s eightieth birthday.  Because of my history with him, I am blessed that my father even talks to me.  Instead, God has given us so much grace that we had a vacation of love and beauty.  I came away feeling privileged.

On the other side of the hallway is my son Vince.  Because of my history with him, my son shouldn’t even want me around while Rikki is getting ready to give birth to their first child.  Instead, I am welcomed, like an honored guest and am given the gift of being here – being alive and wide awake for this beautiful time.  

Again, only by the grace of God.

I am here with my husband, the best guy I have ever met in my life.  He loves sports and our room is freezing cold because he likes it that way, but he is beautiful and tender and he adores me.  Why?  The grace of God.

God’s grace is elastic and beautiful.  It goes on and on after rejection and tragedy; pain and bitterness.  It goes on to hand us long-stemmed rose bouquets after terrible defeats – it brings us full circle in relationships because God is all about restoration.  I am flexible because of it; and others around me love me because of it.  It truly is the best gift I can ever receive.

For that, I am grateful.