A few months before Christmas, Paul and I were in Savannah for the weekend and stopped by the Catholic bookstore to say hello. Among the (many) items we purchased that afternoon was a beautiful liturgical calendar that included feast days, holy days of obligation and the liturgical colors for the Catholic year.
I noticed at the top of page that the Holy Father had declared 2012 the “Year of Grace,” and for some reason I had a flash of panic at the idea. I know I should have been happy at the thought — who doesn’t want a year filled with grace! — but instead of joy I experienced a split-second of fear.
I was thinking about my reaction later, as I unrolled the glossy calendar, and considered the root of my attitude. I didn’t like the idea of extra grace, I admitted to myself, because extra grace meant there was probably a need for it.
God gives us the grace we need — I have known this since I was a girl. I was raised understanding that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, and that he is there with us every step of whatever journey we might be on. I tried to remind myself of this as I thought about a Year of Grace, of the Pope declaring a year to be filled with such blessings.
And then, one week before Christmas, we found out my mom had cancer. I didn’t think about the grace at all. I was filled with optimism, because that was my only option to endure. Throughout her entire battle, there was enough grace because we made it through. It wasn’t until her final treatment last week (way to go, mom!) that I exhaled and thought to myself, “oh boy. That was not fun. At. All.”
I’m sure I had those thoughts throughout this past year, ever since her surgery in February. But the truth is I always chose the positive — her excellent prognosis, my dad’s ability to care for her so well, that this would all be behind us by the Fall — and that is what kept me going. And the real truth is I didn’t think about it that much — I just put one foot in front of the other and white knuckled my way through. There was grace; I only knew because I was able to keep breathing.
I can better see the grace on this side of things. I know it was there because only now, now that the winter (and spring and summer) is past, do I feel the lump in my throat. Only now do I acknowledge the strain. In the midst of it, I could function. There was grace to move forward, to live life and get to the other side.
As my mom was finishing that journey, something quite exciting was taking place with my sister and her husband, this beautiful couple who have been praying for a baby for several years. Out of the blue there was a baby to adopt, and after much prayer and cautious consideration, they decided to move in that direction.
Several months went by, months of caring for the baby and waiting and suddenly, out of nowhere, things started to fall apart. Details came to light that complicated their adoption efforts, and suddenly a situation that seemed so infused with grace and mercy seems to be disintegrating.
Here we are, once again, wading in grace but not necessarily aware that we are swimming in it. We are (I think, I pray) treading the waters of grace, but we may not fully embrace what that means until we are through this.
The fear, of course, is what the other side of grace will look like. What does it mean to be on the other side of this situation — how will God answer our prayers? Are we strong enough for his answer? What if this doesn’t turn out the way we hope? How can we endure?
I don’t know. I only know that we will. The front end, this side of grace, is scary. Jesus is here for us, though we might not truly realize the extent until we have waded unsure through his waters of mercy.
I’ll pray for them just now and put my children to sleep afterwards. Your reminder of Providence is great for me to read. Thank you.
Thanks for sharing this Rachel. As I mentioned on Twitter, I share solidarity with your sister and her family on this and what it means to wait on grace, recognizing and being willing to walk in it, come what may. We have had our little girl for 9 months as of September 8. We call her “Blessed Hope” since legally we can’t reveal her real name on Facebook or anywhere online. Our next hearing is Oct 1, and we have often worried and wondered if we would ever get to this point because of various things that weren’t supposed to happen but did. God is still unfolding our journey as I am sure it is and will be for your family. Be assured of my prayers. It’s a part of becoming a mother that only a select group of women will experience, where a type of fear enters the mix in a way you would have to feel to truly understand. But perfect love casts out all fear. And for now, let’s rest in that. Let us know how it turns out!
Praying right now.
It’s 3:30 pm est, and I just now saw this. But God is not limited by time, so I said a prayer. Please keep us posted.
Prayers said for you sister and her family!
Maybe you know that October 11 starts the year of Faith. What a great one to follow Grace.
Just found this at 7:18pm, but it’s never too late for prayers or miracles.
Beautifully said Rachel! God’s grace is amazing and it is enough for us. Prayers continue for everyone.
Still praying, Rachel. Please update us soon.
I am praying for peace and strength for all involved. I pray that God will put that precious little baby boy in the arms of those who can most help him become the man God designed him to be – He knows and He will.