When I was a kid, if I heard the word "grace," it was in relation to embodiment, and was usually used ironically: "Way to go, Grace!" when one fell, etc. Kids. Can't believe they don't go all Lord of the Flies on each other more often. I guess we should thank people who look like supervisory adults for this boon, or, more probably, the conditioned response that makes us think supervisory adults are nigh.
I was dragged to a couple of different churches, a few different youth groups, two Bible camps, and, who knows what other high-minded organizations as a child. I'm not sure that it was wasted effort, exactly, but I do know that I missed many key concepts, one of which was the notion of "grace" meaning unearned blessings. Presumably, "the grace of the Lord" was used with some frequency; it is, I think, a part of the liturgy, for instance. As busy as I was resisting moral tutelage, this point passed me by.
Grace is something that I think about fairly frequently, largely because I'm shown instances of it in my own life with astonishing frequency. My acknowledgment of the universe's bounty is a relatively new thing: I'm fairly certain I didn't see it as such when I was going through what seemed at the time to be adversities of a grand scale, and they were grand to me. This is the point that troubles me: the strife of others is, to them, real, overwhelming, angry-making, and despair-inducing. As a friend of mine says, your troubles are interesting, but mine are important. True story.
The strife of others is easy for me to dismiss, unless it's obviously paramount. Natural disasters, tragedies of the human condition, bad luck not of your own making, and little else qualify you for my pity, and I don't think I'm particularly more callous than the average individual. It's just a hell of a lot easier for me to see problems (dare I say 'opportunities'? Nay . I dare not.) as prioritizable if they're your problems. Had a flight delay? Suck it up. You didn't die, and the other airport will still be there, and it will be just as magnificent as it would have been earlier. Having to stand in line? Use the time wisely! Meditate! Forget your important . . . thing at home? Chillax. They have stores where you're going.
This cavalier dismissal of the emotional pain of others misses the point: we are creatures who are afraid of the unknown. Certainty gives us an illusion of security, and, while it is an illusion, it certainly makes us feel better. I wouldn't leave the house without locking the door, although I'm aware how flimsy a protection it is (it would be easy, for instance, to drive a vehicle into my house, rendering my lock irrelevant). All religions and belief systems, including faith in science and medicine, work, largely, because we believe in them,and we believe in them because they offer us explanations for things mysterious, things that keep us up at night, things that may place ourselves or our loved ones in the way of harm.
Here's how grace works for me: it asks me to concentrate on the good things around me, the good things that are happening in my world, and, in so doing, it keeps my fear at bay. This method is not for everybody. A friend of mine believes that the secret to contented living is believing that everything that can go wrong will, thus ensuring that, if it doesn't go wrong, you will be happily surprised. Q.E.D.
Remember the song, "Love the One You're With"? I used to believe that that was, at best, immoral and astonishing in its eschewing of decency (I was, remember, dragged around to various uplifting experiences). Now I see it as an acknowledgment that we should treat ourselves with gentleness and love, and that we should allow ourselves the opportunity to find solace when and where we can. I'm still against hedonism (except for the bits of hedonism that I embrace whole-heartedly); I see that keeping the fear and the uncertainty at bay is a bigger task than just seeing
wonder can accomplish on its own, and that grace comes in many, many forms
