This past Sunday we attended church with my mother in law. Her church is so welcoming. And I know David is accepted and loved. That said, when he starts to get wiggly and impatient after sitting in the pew for 20 minutes, I feel my heart begin to beat faster. At first it’s just small noises, but as they get louder I feel exposed, like a bad dream where you’re at school and you realize you forgot to put on pants. No one is judging us–I know that, but I still feel vulernable.
So after trying, unsuccessfully, to quiet him down, we slip out the back door. We walk around the courtyard for a while, and then I peek inside a room across from the sanctuary. There is a huge stained glass window and the sun is shining through. And next to it, a piano–just waiting to be played. So we go inside. And David taps out little tunes while I try to capture the magical light of the stained glass window.
And in such an imperfect, raw moment, I find grace. God gives me many gifts, some so big I can hardly believe it. Some so small I almost miss them. This was a small gift. A few moments of quiet and beauty, where God reminds me that I am not alone. That I am loved. That there is grace in the imperfection.