There have been too many losses this past month.
But somehow, loss never has the final word.
We are different than we were pre-Jean Valjean, pre-Nimbus, pre-Janice, pre-Levi. While our sadness will ease, the grace they gave us will only grow. In times of sorrow, it’s easy to lose sight of these lasting riches. Sometimes we need the wisdom of a child to set us straight again. Leave it to a girl aptly named Grace:
Where once our hearts were small and grey, now we see the colors. Where once we were curved in on ourselves like gnarled claws, now we’ve been raised up, arms outstretched, remolded to give and live grace.
We’ve been freed to love. This is a deliverance with a duty. The rushing river that dislodged us from despair — you know yours, I know mine, none of us reaches age six or so without our own — asks something of us. Now we get to let it flow through us in love. Grace and freedom grow as they’re given.
Give grace, free people. Love cats. Love God. Love each other.
Be ever more free.
Artist: Grace Mozeika, age 12, who “gets” grace more than an entire aircraft carrier full of theologians and philosophers and guys with beards.