I spent the whole day today in a place named Grace Hall.
No kidding. I couldn’t make this up.
See, I’ve been praying for grace. A lot. Me and God, we have this relationship that goes something like this:
Me: Hi God, it’s me again.
Me: Yeah. I know I’ve been a slacker. I meant to do that stuff. But, I didn’t. I’m sorry.
Me: I know. You always do. And I don’t always appreciate it.
Me: Thank you. I really mean it even though my execution is often done poorly.
So I’ve been asking for this thing, grace.
- The grace to make charitable change in the face of adversity.
- The grace to change things about myself that are unpleasant, unhealthy, unholy, un…un…un.
- The grace to love unconditionally.
- The grace to allow myself to be loved unconditionally in return.
- The grace to smile more, laugh more, and yes…cry more.
- The grace to see the grace that is in front of me.
So He planted me in front of this sign all day long, and I didn’t notice until I decided to listen to the messages in my voicemail. Um, 27 voicemail messages (I have no excuse — I’m not even going to try). I didn’t have anything pressing since I always returned missed calls, so I kept pressing ignore, but there was the need to play through and delete…27 times.
Sometimes I have so much noise inside my head that I don’t hear God speak to me, but I heard Him 27 times today — in the voices of friends and strangers, and folks in between. Some of those voices were new friends and contacts expanding my world a little at a time, and a few were just people checking in to follow up with something and not likely to stay around. Most, however, were the same voices of loved ones, over and over again. Cheerful. Happy. Constant.
I found myself listening to the messages in their entirety, the content long-resolved, but the voices, one after the other, filled me. They filled me with their grace.
And my prayers were answered.
…keep me where the Light is…