Did you ever watch that TV show, “Northern Exposure”? It contained one of my favorite lines of all time, delivered by the older lady who owned the general store. She said, “I believe in God. I just don’t think she’s a person.” There are many types of grace, but I’m discussing the one that is a manifestation of that: the grace of goodness.
There are the little graces. The soft, tangential sunlight of autumn resting on trees on a warm breezy day. Your luggage coming out first on the belt at the airport. The cop not giving you a ticket when you really were speeding, and so on. What I’m talking about now is a bigger one, a notable one that comes along only every so often.
When last I wrote to you, my business partner and I had just opened our integrative medicine clinic. There was the excitement of designing floor plans, picking out colors, deciding on what products to provide, figuring out the computer system. Then we opened, and the reality of it set in, and I became very busy. Owning your own business means putting in many more hours working than when you’re an employee, of course. Our practice was cash for service. We didn’t bill insurance companies because we wanted to avoid the expense and complication. It was just before the start of the recession, and it worked for only a select group of patients. I took another job at a hospital to augment my income, then eventually had to get out of the partnership entirely. Money lost, dream bubble popped. Sigh.
Nothing ventured… I was philosophical about it, but it was all so weighty that I got out of touch with people, women friends especially. Then a job with another clinic which did bill insurance, and I was back in the System: see patients as fast as possible and take call. When I wasn’t at work, I was trying to recover from work. Eat well, exercise some. Spend time with the beloved husband and try to maintain the house, make it to visit the elderly parents who live in another state. I wasn’t connecting with my precious women friends, but was hoping they understood. Meanwhile I heard of gatherings, vacations that friends took together, and general bonding that was taking place among them. My hair lady was more tuned in than I was; she told me what the girlfriends were doing.
Problem is, I’m really not that driven. I’m more of a work-to-live person, not the other way around. I decided to try for a university teaching position and work nine months a year. It took me some months, but it manifested. They agreed to hire me for the next fall term. I worked all summer, finished my obligation to my patients and clinic, and took my last week of call. Then I took a month off before school started. I couldn’t relax right away, though. I went to the beach for a few days with my husband, and bought People, Us, and Star.
It would take awhile to settle in to a less stressful way of living, I reasoned. I decided I needed a personal ritual to help change things. I decided to have a small women’s gathering at my house, for the first time in at least four years. I would invite them to dinner. I would cook something delicious for them as a gesture of thanks for their friendship, and I would invite women who had what I wanted: the ability to attend to the side of themselves that was creative and restorative. I couldn’t invite everyone I wanted, so I limited it to those few. Sixteen in all. I called it The Dakini Dinner.
I held my breath, sent out the invitations, and planned the menu. The dinner would be in August. Would everyone be on vacation? The first two RSVPs were Nays. I’m so sorry to miss it, but I’ll be out of town. OK, then. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought. Then some Ayes came in, and finally all the rest were affirmative. Wow, that’s nice. So, I shopped and cooked. I made a ton of food and spent three days at it. I wanted to reconnect with those who I had forsaken for career, which I had to acknowledge, was a truly boring reason to forsake anybody.
The day of the dinner, flowers were delivered to my door by the woman who owned the flower shop, a pleasant acquaintance of mine. The lovely orchids and roses were from one of the would-be guests who was out of town, and the card said to have a wonderful dinner; she was thinking of me and supported me. It portended something good, I decided.
The evening came, and so did the friends. Some of them had not been in my home for literally years, some had never been there. We shared, we laughed, we admired one another, we ate. I sat there listening to them giggling, and thought: They’re still my friends. We can still rely on one another. They forgive me for being unavailable. And I thought: This is Grace.
Grace is in the wind in particles that are often disguised. If you can see them and identify them, you’ll know when they touch you. The particles expand and absorb into you. But if you can’t see it, grace will quickly pass you. We should learn to recognize grace when it comes, and let it come in.