LeRoy hands me a hot mug, the aroma of the coffee and thin wisp of steam invoking tangible grace. A tow-headed child peeks around the corner, his smile and boy-man "Good morning" whispering tangible grace.
The lavish breakfast cooked up by husband and son working side by side. The plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns handed to me by my oldest boy after he asks me, "Can I serve you, Mom?" Tangible grace. All our family's values condensed into tangible, concrete motions.
crazy grace. And it's all grace, isn't it?
When I set it back up on the shelf, I realize the old mission statement ink shows through the paper. I consider removing the old one from the frame completely and then decide that it's perfect how it is. What better way to be reminded of this ongoing transformation than to see Grace placed boldly over the top of all my well-intentioned, grandiose "statements."
It's a gorgeous, (and rare) clear day today. We're headed over to a friend's house... to take a long hike through the woods. They called a while ago to ask if we would stay on to have dinner with them.
The grace of it all just makes me smile and smile.