So I have a roommate now! I suppose more of a housemate, really. Since the only real roommate I plan to have again until death do us part is my Joshua, for fairly obvious reasons. Anyhow, my housemate, Cassie, who is fabulous, has an iPad. Which is also fabulous. I’ve been
coveting playing around with it a lot these past few days, particularly with this one app called Paper. And it’s basically exactly what it sounds like. You create a journal and you get to write in the journal and it makes your handwriting look naturally fancy, unless you have genuinely terrible handwriting.
This app has essentially turned me into an adolescent girl during Social Studies class all over again. I have written my name with my maiden name, my name with my married name, Josh’s name, our names together, our intended children’s names, the names of my entire immediate family, including six nieces and nephews, all of my friends names, their names along with their significant others’ names. Honestly. I’m thirteen again. I feel no shame.
But tonight, there’s this empty, quiet house. And I’m not tired, and my mind is in a hundred places, and so I curl up on our cream-colored couch with the white ball of fluff that is my puppy, the gloriously soft fleece blanket my mama-in-law got me for Christmas, and a cup of hot tea. The TV is off and the only sound is that of cars passing outside our living room window. And I find myself reaching for the iPad that’s sitting on the coffee table within arm’s reach of me, opening the Paper app, and mindlessly doodling while I sit alone with my thoughts.
Ten minutes later, I consciously looked at the screen again for the first time since I picked it up, and I realized that I’d been writing and erasing the same word for ten minutes.
There are just so many things that do not feel like grace to me, y’all. And yet lately, God keeps nudging my heart with this idea that everything, each moment and all that it contains, is all grace. It’s all being gifted to me, every last bit of it. Everything that feels like a blessing, everything that feels like a curse. All of it is God’s grace being shown to and lavished upon me in some way, shape, or form. My choice every day is whether or not to intentionally try to see all the grace in all the moments. I believe it’s there, and I get to decide whether to look for it.
I believe that God is both sovereign and good. In all things, and in all moments. I believe that all is grace.