there is
there is
grace for this
there is
there is

. . . . .

I think I know how I am going to spend my entire life:

Wrestling with grace.

There are probably worse ways to live.

For one reason or a thousand, I can’t grasp grace.

It’s beautiful. It’s undeserving. It’s hope-filled.

One thing I know about grace is that it meets us where we are.

A few years ago, I was having one of those days.

Well, really it was one of those seasons.

Nothing was going right.

Nothing was going my way.

I was exhausted. Depressed. Lost. Burned out. Lonely.

On this particular day, I had been up since 4 AM, which shouldn’t be a real thing and I still had not consumed coffee by 10 AM.

It was a miracle that I was functioning.

I wiped the tears from eyes and began to pray.

My words were scattered; I couldn't make sense of what I was saying, but if God hears our prayers I believe he can decipher their meaning.

I begged for God to remind me of who He was in my life.

I needed something to hold on to.

Something more than coffee, but also coffee.

I said Amen and stepped into the frigid cold. My hands trembled and my lips tightened. I whispered through my chapped lips “I hate the cold.” The aroma of coffee hit my nose as I stepped into Starbucks, a saving scent. I went over my order in my head as I stepped to the front counter.

“Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee.”

The barista had her back to me when I approached the counter.

I waited for a few seconds before she turned around.

“Hey! Welcome to Starbucks! What can I get started for you?” she asked.

My eyes locked with hers and then I glanced at her name tag.

Her name was Grace.

How fitting.

Grace was waiting for me.

Grace greeted me with a smile.

Grace met me right where I was.

“Coffee. Black coffee, please, Grace.”

“How's your day going?” asked Grace with a smile. Her smile swung across her face. I wondered if she could see the exhaustion I wore on mine or if it looked like I had just finished crying, because I had.

I wanted to be honest with her, but I kept it short.

“It's been a day. Yeah, it’s been a day.” I said.

“Oh, well I hope it gets better. Here is your coffee.”

Grace responded as she handed me a warm, white paper cup full of nectar.

“Amazing, Grace. Thank you. This has already made my day much better.”

I carefully handled the cup of coffee as if it was my first-born.

The first sip of coffee (even if is Starbucks) is always a fresh reminder that everything is going to be okay. I sat down for a few minutes before stepping out into the cold. My mind ran with words, fumbling, falling, and searching for something to hold on to. It was more than thinking, it was a conversation with God. I can't remember what I said, but I remember getting up and walking back to the car with energy.

Sure, the coffee was working, but it was more than coffee, it was hope.

Grace gives way to hope.