An Ode to Grace

Jeff and I are in Golden, Colorado to celebrate the wedding of our friend Grace to her fiancé, Joel.  On Thursday night I was invited to go to a "Favorite Things" party for Grace.  We were asked to bring something simple--maybe a poem or a quote to share with Grace--as well as a favorite memory we have of her.  The night before we left Juneau, lying in bed, trying to think of what my favorite thing could be (Grace is a poet, the stakes are high) I remembered something in the bowels of our basement--a "Friendship Journal" that Grace and I had started over 10 years ago when Jeff and I were newly married, expecting twins, and living in Anchorage and Grace was living in Bethel, Alaska, working at the Women's Shelter there.  The journal only contains two entries--one from me on March 17th, 2004, and one from Grace the following month.  

Reading through the journal I loved hearing our 24 year-old voices talking about life.  How young we were!  But also how wise.  And there in Grace's entry, from her own hand, I found two favorite quotes to share with her about marriage.  The first is this:   

"How beautifully we grow when we let ourselves be loved."  

The second quote from her entry, comes from her reflection on a book Jeff and I had lent her called The Children of God.  She said reading the book re-affirmed for her the following about life: 

Grace's engagement photo with Joel 

"We know so little. 

We must trust in so much beyond ourselves to make it through this difficult world. 

We make mistakes despite our best intentions. 

We hurt one another. 

And time helps mollify all this; 

faith sees what we cannot."  

And so, my Grace, on your and Joel's wedding day, know your own wisdom and beauty as you begin this chapter of your life together.    

Here's the favorite memory I shared at the "Favorite Things" party:   

My favorite memory of Grace takes place on a blustery, sunny Juneau day in late May.  It involves James Herriot and a hot tub.  Actually the tub was barely lukewarm, and no one else was allowed to be in it except for me.  While my husband frantically cooked lentils in our kitchen, Grace sat cross-legged on our queen-sized bed while my bouyant belly bobbed in the inflatable blue tub and read to me from All Creatures Great and Small.  It's the tale of poor, newly-minted English countryside vet, James Herriot, who's out on one of his first jobs alone, desperately trying to help a cow to calve (or maybe it's a horse, I can't remember).  The important thing is that the poor animal was in arrested labor, while poor James Herriot had his arm elbow-deep in the womb attempting to unarrest it.  According to Mr. Herriot there is no greater agony known to man than to be thus situated betwixt the contracting pelvis of a birthing beast.  

A few hours later my own baby was birthed and Grace and I both sat cross-legged on the living room couch, looking at him.  Watching her, holding my son, I knew why I had instinctively wanted Grace to be there, with me while I navigated the narrow way of birth--her friendship, her strength has always made me stronger.  From forcing me to read my first map in Athens when I was twenty to rejoicing with me when I finally found the voice to say "f**k" when a situation called for it*, to holding my two colicky babies and bouncing on a ball for hours so I could get something done, to watching my son appear and take his first shaky breaths in the world outside, Grace has been there, telling me I was strong enough, and because of that I have been.  

*On this day of all things Grace, you can hear that story at:  http://mudrooms.org/archives/january-2014-grace/

Click on the audio below my name (the 3rd one down).  And don't worry--it's bleeped!