A Willing Heart and a Moment of Grace

I’ve often pondered what grace is. I know the actual definition: It’s a gift from God—a free and unexpected blessing. But grace felt elusive and remote, something I’d heard about but never experienced. And then to my surprise, I had my own experience of it. 

My husband and I have a loving relationship 51 years strong, but each of us can occasionally hurt the other. A few years ago, I was reminded of this when we were socializing with a new couple. I was upset with Barry for interrupting me and later changing the subject abruptly after I finished speaking. He hadn’t seemed interested in what I was saying.

Barry and I have always communicated openly, and earlier in our marriage we would discuss this kind of issue after socializing. But we’ve learned over the years that these conversations might trigger us to get defensive and argue. We now accept that we’re each a bit vulnerable socially (I like to think everyone is!), and that our social interactions, while pretty good, aren’t perfect and may never be.

That evening, as we walked home, I was still nursing my resentment, trying to release it by placing my hand on my heart and saying to myself, Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. 

That night, I received the mysterious, unexpected grace I’d heard about. And thanks to my willingness, I have been receiving it ever since.

Apart from that, I had to decide whether to drop in on the last half hour of a women’s choir rehearsal at a nearby hotel. The choir was practicing a song that we would sing at a public rally on International Women’s Day. I had already told the group I had a previous commitment; I felt no obligation to stop by, and it was already so late I doubted my appearance would make much difference. Plus, I was tired. Yet the choir director had said this rehearsal was the most important one of all, and Barry encouraged me to go.

Stirring Music

Approaching the hotel, I thought, Oh, why not? As I neared the practice room, I heard rousing, enthusiastic singing. I felt an immediate softening in my chest. The hurt feelings I’d been ruminating over faded, and my eyes filled with tears at the sound of the stirring music. The beauty of women singing together in harmony filled my heart. I was flooded with joy, and the thought suddenly came to me: Oh! This is grace!

The choir director, who hadn’t expected me, grinned broadly at my arrival. My seatmate handed me the music sheet, and a moment later I joined in, singing lustily. Later, when I got home, I thanked Barry for encouraging me to go. I could have so easily missed it—not only the sweetness of singing, but more important, the easing of my hurt feelings. 

As I went to bed, my resentment and hurt seemed trivial in the bigger scheme of things. I didn’t feel Barry had been interested in what I had to say. So? Had I been interested in all his comments? Had I given him enough attention? But even those thoughts soon slipped away, as I drifted into a deep, restful sleep, remembering the stirring melody I’d helped create. The next morning, I woke with the lovely memory of singing and a feeling of peace toward Barry.

Transformation

This experience taught me that, far from having to work at releasing any unwanted emotion, transformation can happen in a heartbeat if I’m open to it. Because I’m a stubborn person, my willingness is key. Ever since that evening, I often ask myself, Are you willing to release this, sweetie? I can’t receive grace if I won’t open the door. Willingness lets it in. 

I had no sense when I approached the hotel that my hurt feelings could be recast as joy. It was not from my will or ego. It just happened. That night, I received the mysterious, unexpected grace I’d heard about. And thanks to my willingness, I have been receiving it ever since.