Grace

She has come. That unexpected, unplanned sense of a divine and benevolent Presence that we call grace. Perhaps overblown to invoke divinity, with all its many associations. Let’s just say an undeniable sense of well-being in the body, in the heart, in the mind, that all is right with the world. A preposterous statement given the actual state of affairs. Now congress- people are actively challenging each other to physical violence in the hallowed halls of the Capitol on behalf of their state’s treasured values. (Watch Stephen Colbert’s Wednesday show.)But tonight, even that doesn’t disturb that rare grace that has visited and filled me with such surprising happiness. The moment thick with blessing, the body vibrating with happiness and the heart overflowing with love and the mind freed from all worry and stress. Grace.

 

Of course, the moment the angel visits, we want to catch it like Tinkerbell so we can make its blessing last or duplicate the conditions that brought it here. But grace is out of reach of cause and effect, resists any plans you can conjure up, refuses the invitation that you speak out loud. It doesn’t come when you want it or need it necessarily. It just sits patiently and then some unbidden voice says, “Now.”

 

It didn’t hurt that I was called to sub for a full day at my beloved school and without more than a minute of planning for each class, played some great blues with the 8^th grade, taught and danced the Bow Belinda playparty to 5-year olds, organized the 6^th grade into small groups to create “secret song” compositions in 5/4 meter and Eb minor pentatonic (the same kids who did “The Secret Song” activity with me in kindergarten years back that I recorded and often show in workshops). I topped off the day with a Singing Time in the old music room, playing banjo once again for the kids with Thanksgiving theme songs. Walking down the old halls, somewhat changed but still recognizable, might have called up the happy ghosts of 45 years and perhaps that helped.

 

Likewise, anticipating torrential rains that never came, I bought a new jigsaw puzzle. Haven’t done one in a few months, but snapped back right into that pleasurable addiction of finding the next piece almost effortlessly, as if some invisible hand is directing me, and watching the image slowly develop. Listened to a fine new album by Josh Redman while working on the puzzle and then went to the piano and played four jazz tunes feeling as if I was handed the key to unlock the full range of beauty and tenderness and swinging energy hidden inside each. No one there to witness but the Muse by my side.

 

And then off to dinner to heat up yesterday’s perfect tortilla soup and that’s when it struck me— Grace is here. It has been a while. She is welcome anytime and my days are fine without the extra touch of heavenly delight. And yet, these moments that have visited over the years—and I can name many of them— are so rare and valuable and a needed reminder that we are born for happiness, for beauty, for love, all those words made empty without the body of grace to make them real.  Even trying to capture them here is perhaps too much. She will leave again, but hopefully also return and in-between, I will feel the echo of her presence.

 

May she come to us all.