Last night I watched the moon rise. She was so full, and she rose so slowly and heavily; the pine trees on the tip of the mountain almost pierced her through as she passed them. Waiting above the mountain was one tiny veil of cloud. Her majesty slipped behind it as soon as she could. Even so, the fields around me were flooded in moonlight.
Today, the news had the normal roll of calamities. But normal couldn’t shake the horror: a teenage boy stabbing on a German train. Police murdering still more black Americans, and police being murdered back. Fire, theft, death, loss. Politics which turn out to be lies.
This morning, I find Alice falling into Wonderland and her adventures are, “Curiouser and curiouser!”
What a curious life, indeed. Tragedy and beauty and comedy woven together so closely. From one moment to the next, there is no telling what will happen, or how one will change (as Alice could tell you).
It makes the simple things, like coming home from work to a hot shower, that much more wonderful. Because it is all grace, and nothing can be taken for granted. At the same time, it makes those simple things that much more terrible. Because there are flesh-and-blood people, just like you and me, who can look back at a lifetime of yesterdays without those things. Worse, there are people whose todays have been robbed of what matters most. Faith, dignity, security, and hope. Will they find them again? Dare I, with a life so luxurious as to include hot showers, forget them?
Sometimes grace is a terrible thing to contemplate.