Monday, July 18, 2016

July 18: Grace Never Flags, Dirty Dishes, Unmade Beds

It has always been a happy thought to me that the creek runs on all night, new every minute, whether I wish it or know it or care, as a closed book on a shelf continues to whisper to itself its own inexhaustible tale. So many things have been shown to me on these banks, so much light has illumined me by reflection here where the water comes down, that I can hardly believe that this grace never flags, that the pouring from ever-renewable sources is endless, impartial, and free.

I really love this passage about grace.  Grace like Tinker Creek, constantly flowing, daybreak to daybreak, moving and flowing.  Or a book on a shelf, whispering its never-ending story over and over.  Basically, Dillard is saying that God's grace in inexhaustible, burbling, whispering, at work all the time.

I sometimes forget about grace.  When I got home this afternoon, I found a few dishes in the sink and my daughter's bed unmade.  The first thing that came to my mind was not, "Thanks, God, for my home and family."  I made the bed, washed the dirty frying pan and bowl, swearing the whole time.  I felt a little taken for granted.  You see, I can't stand to have dirty dishes or unmade beds.  I can't even sit on the couch in the living room if I know there's a fork in the sink or a pillow on the floor.

It occurs to me that I do the same thing to God.  God gives me blessings all day long--sunrises, a car, a can of Pringles, a nap--and I completely ignore them.  Instead, I launch into scatological tirades about plates caked with rice and piles of blankets on the floor when I should be giving thanks for the food and the warm bed.  Grace.

Tonight, my daughter is on a trip with the family of one of her dance friends.  I thank God for friendship.  My son just came inside and asked me if he could have a Popsicle at a neighbor's house.  I thank God for a polite son.  I'm working on a new laptop issued to me by the university where I teach.  I thank God for work that fulfills me (even if it doesn't pay all the bills).  Pretty soon, I'm going to help my son take a bath and get ready for bed.  I thank God for fatherhood.

Saint Marty has grace coming out of his butt.

Another perk of grace:  annoying people

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