January 21, 2012
And ever we breathe grace
Time does not ebb.
“Ebb” suggests a back-and-forth dance, like waves or breathing, and time is no such thing. It is a rush, a gravity, one direction only and no pause or stop or return. Time is the mud in which children are planted, and time coaxes their limbs to grow and those faces to slim and those little tongues to sprout words that astound. Time carved itself around my Evan-boy and grew him up into a little person.
So much has happened since I last chose (or attempted) to write. And what a silly thing is a blog for sharing our lives! Yet I have been so blessed by certain blogs that I regularly read, I am encouraged to write about the life we lead and the Creator who leads us – the Maker of time in which we move forward.
But what to say? That neither Evan nor his father is who I expected him to be? That the past year has caused me to stumble and ache more times than I should mention? That life and I have looked each other in the eye and blown hot breath in each others’ faces like bulls readying themselves for goring? I will not, but God knows. I will say, however, that while time is the mud – the niche - we wallow in, grace is the air we are birthed into.
Friends, all I know is grace because that is the substance I see most often. No matter what I am feeling, how stressed or confused I am as a mother – or how buoyant or joyful or amazed! – how easy or fragile my days are, how brilliant my child or how frightening our doctor’s prognoses, grace is what wraps around us to sustain us. If I teach that sweet, sweet son of mine anything in this life, it should be that God’s grace is a free gift, a welcome balm, a three-corded rope to grab hold of with blistered fingers, a roof over our heads and the rock under our feet. A shelter, a destination, manna. That grace is all we need, and all we really have.
All of Evan’s new words (and there are many), and all the weight he’s gained (and that is precious little), are through the grace of God.
And therein, son of my bones and skin, lies all our life’s sweetness.
