Gracefull, Part 2

Ok, so here we go…the post I eluded to earlier this week that needed a great deal of love…


Of course it’s spelled with one l, the correct way, above.  Of course it’s not spelled correctly in the post title to make a point.  About how grace and fullness seems (at least for me) to go hand in hand, together like an old couple that are finally at peace with themselves.

Oh, how to be graceful.  Harder than it looks, I hear.

And most days, I don’t feel full of grace.  I instead feel like this:

Thanks for the picture, Colleen Dean.

Vegas-y. (Even though this isn’t a picture of Vegas, I realize that. Again, making a point here.)

I feel like what I imagine I would feel in a place like Vegas: hazy, discordant, lots of activity and too-bright lights, and all things that are unsettling as spending twelve-plus hours inside with no clocks.  Not knocking it if you if you love Vegas, but me and being inside for lots of hours with no clocks, well, I’d shortly arrive at crazy.  Not that I haven’t been there (crazy) before, but that’s a story for another time.  And maybe in a book you have to pay for…

Anyways-back to the way I feel-in an environment like Vegas (also not so dissimilar to my life at the moment)-I would feel not right.

And this feeling of all Vegas-y and uncomfortableness, for me I’ve realized is emptiness masquerading as fullness.  The shockingly bright and loud sights, sounds and activities in my life making me feel as if I am full and happy, so thus, by the mathematics therefore it means that I am ok. Right?

But then again, Doritos and empty calories make me feel that way too, only to discover a couple of hours later that I am cranky, hungry, and now have an ever-so-slight orange glow.

Again, it’s not right.

And yet I do it all again, over and over again, like someone who does not learn from their mistakes.  And again, I over-schedule, over-plan, over-do; too much in one day, then I end up stressing myself out only to spend more time trying to work myself down from working myself up that some days I have to just laugh about it.  And then others days I cry because I am exhausted by the whole mess.

Oh boy.

So then I go through the whole thing again, thinking, over-thinking, trying to solve this “problem” and then, eureka!

I walk outside.

Outside where the world is simple and solid, where the sky in my backyard is a tall, deep and wholesome visual drink of quiet.

And it is wonderful.

And I ask myself why I don’t do this often, and then I remember it’s because I keep gambling, a nasty, constant game of life-roulette of gambling my time, money and energy on silly things, small things that really don’t matter (i.e. the laundry doesn’t deserve all of my attention) and neglecting the big ones, (i.e. the big presents in the very small moments-my husband opening my doors, my small child telling me that the bubbles are tired, that’s why they keep disappearing from the bathtub, and the not so small gifts of grace co-workers offer so consistently…)

And I miss it all.

And I do this over and over and over again, like a record needle caught in a groove, stuck on repeat, until someone moves the needle.

Wondering, when, exactly, will I learn?

When, exactly do I pass this quiz?  Maybe soon, sometimes I hear.

Other times I think I hear Maybe never. But that’s why I’m here.

And then in the silent, navy night, I utter a small thank you to God, if for nothing else but His grace.

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