Growing up, I spent a lot of time in ballet classes. Pink tights, with a seam down the back. Black leotards. Pink, leather ballet slippers with an elastic strap to hold them in place. Some of my earliest memories rise up to meet me from the hardwood floors and mirrored walls and barres onto which we gently placed our hands while practicing battement dégagé. Barre work was my favorite, followed closely by port de bras, practiced in the center of the room—arms moving through the air in sweeping arcs and extensions. Shoulders down and back, ribcage lifted, belly strong, back straight. And make your arms look as if they never want to end. On and on.
Ballet taught me about grace. The kind of grace you carry around with you in your limbs and in the way you hold your head and in the way your legs turn out a bit from the hip. Ballet taught me to walk lightly into the world and to be confident with my light steps. Ballet taught me to soar, and then to land without a sound.
Ballet grace isn’t the only kind of grace. And, like ballet grace, this other grace doesn’t just happen. It doesn’t arrive at the front door with an instruction manual and color-coded labels. It is hard work to get to grace. Sometimes, there is sweat involved, and it gathers itself in a puddle on the floor at your slippered feet—feet worn raw from all the twirling and the learning to land without a sound.
It is easier to navigate the world with heavy steps and hands that fold themselves into fists, instead of reaching reaching reaching…
Grace calls us to walk a different way. We fall into grace, and for most of us, we discover grace at the end of a long road filled with trying and striving and holding grudges and wondering why and what for. This is the grace of God: rising up to meet us when we finally lose our grip and wonder who will catch us, now that we are falling.
And there is this, too: the grace we say around the table—reaching out our hands to complete the circle while peeking through squinted eyelids to watch the candle flicker while gratitude is spoken and thanks is given. “Say grace,” we say.
I don’ t know when I realized these three iterations of grace are all the same—that they come from the same place and go to the same place. The soft way we move through space while we inhabit the earth, the grace we extend to and receive from one another—especially in tough conversations or difficult seasons, and the grace of gratitude spoken with a bowed head and quiet voice, acknowledging the goodness of God’s constant provision and simple gifts toward us.
Grace is more than just one thing. It originates with God in his reaching reaching reaching toward us. Unending. We slip our arms through grace’s sleeves and wrap ourselves in its soft and gentle ways. Grace transforms us first, and sometimes leaves puddles on the floor at our feet. We can’t step into the calling or the purpose or the dream we’d like to live for God without first stepping into grace. I am convinced of this.
The places God calls us to require grace, no matter where our calling takes us. At the office, in the carpool lane, behind the pulpit, at the keyboard. When grace is missing, it’s noticeable. Surely, you have seen it when it happens. Maybe you’ve been a practitioner of God’s calling without first stepping into grace. I know I have. It wasn’t pretty.
But grace steps in, even then. Thank God for grace.
Take grace with you as you go. Let grace animate your leaving and remaining. Steep your calling and your every day ordinary everything in grace. Be filled with it. Be generous with it. Be grateful for how it makes a difference in all of everything.
Some questions for you: Have you tried to move forward into your calling without remembering to step into grace? And, have you also remembered grace? What difference does grace make? Which of these three iterations of grace feels the most familiar to you?
Will you join us in May at JumpingTandem: The Retreat? Grace is our theme—in all of its iterations. We’d love to see you there and shower grace on you.
This is one of my favorite things you’ve written, especially this sentence: “Ballet taught me to soar, and then to land without a sound.”
I love ballet. It taught me so many things. And I am still learning.
My favorite line, too….
Just beautiful, Deidra. I want to learn to dance in life with grace, by grace, and wearing a garment of grace. You set such a lovely example… XO
I thought of you while I was writing this, Kris. You wear it well.
Yes! This: “We fall into grace, and for most of us, we discover grace at the end of a long road filled with trying and striving and holding grudges and wondering why and what for. This is the grace of God: rising up to meet us when we finally lose our grip and wonder who will catch us, now that we are falling.” Just exactly this! I just wrote today about how I am finding that Grace and Wonder are so closely connected!
I’ve been thinking a lot about awe lately…
Grace grace… Oh for far too long I lived a graceless life… No grace for myself…therefore no grace for others… But thanks be to God…He suffers long with us…He woos us with His love …His grace… Into a beautiful dance…and space to live…years ago, when I turned 50.. I told the Lord I wanted to be gray and gracious…well I am graying very slowly for a woman my age…. Don’t know what that says about my progress in gracious living☺️… Love what you wrote here…blessings!
I’ve begun asking God to help me see people the way he sees them. That’s asking for a big helping of grace, I think. And, I’ve got enough gray hair for both of us, Ro!
Grace … an unending flow from His heart to ours. Oh, to look for its appearance in the surprising places. And do nothing that would halt its fragrant work …
Yes, I’m good about getting in the way of grace. I like your words about the fragrance. I wonder what that would be like, if we could actually smell grace?
Grace makes such a difference! I love how you tied all three together. My aunt gave me a sign for my birthday. I keep it on my nightstand. It reads : Grace isn’t a little prayer you say before a meal. It’s a way to live. Truth be told, I could stand to grown in grace in every area.
Wise grandmother, huh? I think we could all grow in grace. We probably won’t ever be done, as long as we’re living, I guess.
Moving forward into a calling without stepping into grace, those were some ugly and humbling days for me. The grace that covered that junk is especially precious to me and I find myself in the position to offer it back or choose to withhold it often. Good reminders here today!
Sort of like paying it forward? I know those grace-less days, and I’m susceptible to falling into them with every breath I take. Thank God for grace. 🙂
I took a couple of ballet classes in college – just so I could feel a little bit graceful – those were the years when I didn’t believe in God’s grace….So, now I thank God every day for His grace (and sometimes I point my toes…) I loved this. Janet
Oh, yes. Pointed toes. I love that you took ballet in college. That was brave, and you will carry it with you always.
What a really beautifully, woven discussion about Grace. It blessed me. Thanks.
Thanks for reading, Mary.
I cannot begin to tell you how touching it is to read these words as I [sometimes] trod through life. *This* is food for thought. Thank you for sharing <3
You’re welcome, Jeni. Thanks so much for reading and commenting.
What a beautiful collection of thoughts: making your arms look like they never want to end……and God reaching reaching reaching toward us….unending. Such a gorgeous image, touched with the wondrous light of grace given to us to share and receive. Thank you for helping me view this incredible gift in this way.
God reaching toward us. Isn’t that something?
Lovely writing that packs a punch! Your word pictures show us the path toward grace!
I most identify with grace as a dancer. You know well how hard it is to make it look easy. There’s grace in the effort, grace in repetition, grace in falling and trying again. And now tonight I think of your questions and wonder how I’ve applied or not applied from all my years as a student of grace. Lord, I’m still learning, still growing. I love this post. You knew I would.
beautiful beautiful words from beautiful you. thank you.