In my quarters, life does not happen with a lot of grace. Instead it’s like a chunky soup, full of bumps, accidents and falls.
Too often when I mix others into my life. Any sense of grace, of smoothness, of serenity and calm disappears. Instead it becomes some form of fight for survival, emotional resilience, and fortune telling beyond the now and then.
I wish my life could be graceful. Rather than dramatic. I was reading a self help article the other day which sought to point out. If your life is full of drama, dramatic people and more ups and downs than a child on a bouncy castle. Then now is the time to point the finger back at the source of the drama; that would be me.
I am to blame for all the drama in my life. I am the source of it all. What can feel like living through a soap opera every day, or through even more bizarre story lines than writers can imagine. Is of my own pen. My own writing.
Now I am not truly the source of the drama. But I am responsible for what I think and make of it. How I respond to it. And I try with grace. That is to accept all things as they are, realise that the things that have happened are not just due to my actions, and they all add to the variety of life. These are all character and personality areas of growth. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.
But whereof my grace? The calm, the eye of the storm. The stillness. The moment of sunshine into the chapel, the clarity.
Pray for your own moments of grace. Act only with it. Variety is… the spice of life.