The whole time I was pregnant with Rowan I was positive she was a boy… mostly because my husband’s coo-coo-ka-choo aunt said she “had a vision”…. after Rowan was not a boy she informed us that she saw that her neighbours had a baby boy.. that must have been the boy that she “saw” – oh that Auntie – a regular “Carnac The Magnificent”!
Anyway, while I was pregnant and when we talked about girl names I would always say that no matter what her middle name would be “Grace”. I remember I would always lovingly rub my belly and say “I can feel this one is going to need a great deal of Grace”. My feeling was that she was going to be a handful in the character department… little did we know.
That word, that name, has so much power for me…. it’s a word that whispered to me when I was in a pile on the floor, screaming, crying, begging for Mercy.
It’s a word that had me pick myself up, brush myself off and decide that we were going to turn these lemons into lemonade.
It’s a word that can turn an awful situation into an opportunity for integrity and class.
It’s a whisper, whisper, whisper that things are never as bad as they seem and even in the darkest of moments, the bleakest of heart-break, the saddest of life’s sadness, you can dig just a little and somewhere in the middle of it you’ll find yourself some Grace.