Chasing Grace

Topic of the week? Sacraments. Webster says that a sacrament is a “visible sign of God’s grace.”  Fair enough, and I am sure that I should be ruminating on the upcoming First Communion in my house, or the beautiful Anointing of the Sick that our pastor offered to a first grader needing a liver transplant and his donor cousin last week. I also totally appreciate the sacrament of Reconciliation, which my second grader was not too happy about recently when he had to come clean on all the cash he spent buying gems on his video game, Clash of Clans. (Thank you, Apple, for knowing that I really didn’t WANT to spend 1, 109 dollars to give my son super-powers in a video game, and graciously refunding my money.)

As sacraments go, I am one hundred percent able to spout off the rites, the sacramentals, and the minister for each sacrament.  Not surprising, really, since I have been standing or sitting in a Catholic school for most of my 43 years. I can even define words like transubstantiation and chrism and eucharist.  

But to me, sacraments go beyond the veil of the church and the priest and little boys with slicked back hair and clip-on ties. Visible signs of God’s grace? I see them every day.

Grace: “seemingly effortless beauty or charm; a disposition to be generous or helpful; divine love and protection bestowed freely on the people.”   Oh my, this world is full of grace-filled moments. Ever see a girl go up to someone sitting alone on the playground and make her smile? Grace. Ever see an elderly man help his walker-using wife into a grocery store? Grace. How about some generally quiet girls standing up to a bully in class? Grace.  Ever see a student who struggles in writing finally write a beautiful metaphor? I have. Grace all around. Or how about a spontaneous hug for a brother who has skinned his knee or my daughter taking out the garbage AND recycling without being asked? There is even grace in my happy little home!

Nature creates grace too. Daffodils, planted by my father, bloom in my back yard. Now my sons pick them for me in grubby–handed bouquets. Grace. Or the streaks of sun reflected through the clouds or lake or trees? Grace. Heck, even my boys dancing in the hail yesterday (really April?) remind me that opening my eyes to see the pebbly white beauty is tasting eternity.

So yes, I am preparing excitedly for my kid’s First Communion, as he has been singing church songs at full volume for weeks. I appreciate the tradition and sacraments of my faith. But living with intention and looking for “effortless beauty and charm” in the people I meet? That is a game I am willing to play in all moments, big and small. And being a minister of grace for others? To help a struggling student or throw the ball to my boy in the yard or buy a tired grocery clerk a candy bar? Those are occasions when I know I am kissing the divine.