What a silky, smooth word it is, sliding off the tongue like lotion. One syllable containing a universe of meaning. Not the same as "mercy", but a sister of "forgiveness." Grace knows the score, but doesn't keep it; views the ugly, but sees beauty, finds goodness. Grace, from my finite side of it, seems Eternal and reaches into my limits and lifts me up and out. It elevates the meaning of contentment from satisfaction to something else, something higher. Can everything be redeemed by Grace?
If I want to become a better artist, I must have grace with myself. Ego likes to fuss at grace and strains at being teachable and flexible. Grace says keep trying, keep moving forward. Maybe grace has a sense of humor and can laugh at botched attempts. "Look at that," she says, "What WERE you thinking?!" but with freedom, not blame, and fresh eyes to see the next step. I feel that it is A-ok to fall a little bit in love with my paintings, even when they are messy and works-in-progress; grace makes room for that even while pressing me onward toward excellence. It's freedom to fail, because failure isn't the last word with Grace.
I hope for all ya'll (all you all) this Christmas season…GRACE... that brings contentment, freedom, joy.