Grace walks into the room and now I recognize her. I rise, smiling, and step over to greet her.
That wasn't always so. For years Grace was a vague, wispy somebody who came and went because I didn't understand her. I didn't know how much I needed her, nor how much I'd neglected her ever since God sent her to me.
But one day I woke up, and there she stood at the end of my bed, wordlessly inviting me to rise. Then all day long she walked beside me, helping me to do every chore-- and because of her presence, the chores became sweet. I no longer dreaded them, but anticipated them because Grace would be there with me, smiling and helping me to do what I could never do alone.
But Grace could be stern, too. When I would try to do things, even good things, which God had told me to let go of, Grace would shake her head and back away. And when I'd stubbornly persist in doing those good things anyway, because I thought I "should," Grace would leave the room. And there I'd be left without Grace's smiles or her light. Instead, I'd be back to struggling, trying to make that good thing work. The joy was gone, and there was no flow from an oil of peace. No, just struggle and obligation were left.
And finally, through the hallways of Time and Experience, I learned to recognize Grace. When she was beside me and when she wasn't. I discovered a good thing is no longer a good thing if Grace is not helping me with it. I learned I am in the wrong place if Grace is not there to both strengthen me and cushion my heart from blows.
With Grace, I can do anything, and do it with peace and tranquility. Without her, Life is cruel.
And now when Grace walks into the room, I run up to her and we leave together, smiling smiles of courage, to change this weary world.
***
