Grace

I am an above average "tall". Not the "are you a model" kind of tall, but rather the "did you play basketball" kind of tall. At a quarter of an inch shy of 6'2", the answer is yes, I did use my height for it's athletic advantages. While gradual, my personal journey to this high vantage point was not something that could be termed as a graceful ascent. 

I was never an especially tall kid growing up. On the back row for pictures, always, but I never claimed the middle of that pyramid mold. It wasn't until my sophomore year in high school that I "enjoyed" a growth spurt. In the frame of a year and a half, I grew 8 inches.  Not only were the growing pains just that - painful - but I lost the ability to remember my bruises' origins. I couldn't duck low enough for car doors. My hip bones were suddenly the perfect height to catch a door handle's painful edges. In its attempt for my extremities to all get on the same page, so to speak, my body was just plain awkward. When it came to an allowance for my body to adjust to its altering proportions, there was none. Like a professor refusing to grade on a curve, there was no grace period. 

The mention of grace in this context would naturally be assumed in its relation to physical stature. When I think of "individuals of grace" I think of Jackie Kennedy and Grace Kelly in Ralph Lauren, glove bedecked ensembles. While also entirely true in its utter and complete lack in my aforementioned years, I am actually referring to grace's act of forgiveness. The context I am attempting to draw attention to is that which invites mercy.  The grace that bends in an attempt to support rather than snap from a rigid and unbreathable frame. 

What areas of your life are you making more painful due to a lack of grace? Is it something that you need to give? Maybe it's something you need to receive. Personally, I need both.