Grace in the Moment

The Lord has graciously given moments of grace over the last few days:

Friendship and laughter.

The discovery of quiet, brush filled running trails inside the city that make you feel like you're in a mountainous wilderness well outside the city.

The mid-70 degree weather, cool breeze, thunder heads, dry lightening storm and then downpour of rain last night.

My bosses infectious laughter this morning.

God is always good, and we are in His hands.

Finding home away from home

It's no secret that one of my very favorite things during my time in Slovakia was All Hallows Eve and Day (or All Saints Day, or Halloween, depending on where you live). This is the time when the cemeteries would be lit up like Christmas trees with various candles of every shape, size and color family members carefully and lovingly placed around the graves of loved ones in remembrance of them. I would wander the cemetery for as long as I could, taking pictures, quietly soaking in my surroundings, listening to the flick of the flame in moments of still revery. I always looked forward to this time of year every year. It made me giddy knowing I could go out into the cemetery after dark and be surrounded by lights and love, feeling at peace. (Ironic, no?)

I can't remember when I did this exactly, but it must have been shortly after the holidays. I went to a cemetery in the Dallas area with a purpose, but found myself so enamored by what I saw that I abandoned my agenda and just wandered around for a while.

It may seem like a totally strange concept, but this pleasant surprised totally warmed me to the core.

Cemeteries are a place I feel at ease. A place I can breathe and be myself and not have to perform or pretend or seem completely put together. (Because let's face it, despite the vibe I give off, I'm not completely put together and with it! I'm a mess of a sinful human being saved by the grace of God alone.)

When I'm having a completely terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I always think I should just drive to the nearest cemetery and plant myself somewhere - be it ground or bench - and just be for a while.

 When I'm having a splendid, wonderful, very good day, and I pass by a cemetery, I always think to myself, I should just drive inside and be for a while.

Believe it or not, a cemetery can tell you quite a lot. If you pay attention, you can see signs of varying degrees of loss, grief and pain, and also love and remembrance. The man lovingly placing fresh flowers at his wife's grave. The woman uncontrollably sobbing over the recent passing of a loved one.

There are plots that haven't been touched in years, the foliage filling the crevices and cracks like pain and hurt and grief spreads out through the void of the lost loved one. (These are the plots where I tend to linger a little longer, bending down, brushing off leaves and grass and brush. Everyone deserves love.)

And there are plots adorned to the last possible inch of space available to make sure that that void is full of love and remembrance. (I'm not sure one ever overcomes the grief, but learns to live with it even after the healing process has begun.)

Some plots are a simple statement of love and remembrance ...

 And others are an explosion of we-will-not-forget's!

And none of it is bad. They're all just different. And different doesn't mean wrong.

I must admit, I love every bit of it. From the unadorned to the very simple to the extremely grand, it's familiar. It's warmth. It brings a smile to my lips and a happy sigh from my deepest depths. It takes me back to those cold nights wandering around candle lit rows of tombstones and crypts, just being, breathing and revering in the moment.