The Shape Of Grace

There's an old Out Of The Grey song called "The Shape of Grace".  That phrase keeps bobbing at the surface of my thoughts.  The shape of grace...the shape of grace...

I can feel it in my feeler and sense it in my intellect that I'm in a learning place;
here to learn
and feel
and experience
and know
and move in
and be still in
and give
God's grace.

I need it.  I want it.  And it's there.

In the cup of cooling water

In the clouds of soothing shade

In the arms of love encircling [her]

[She] saw the shape of grace...

Today it was sitting on a porch swing and holding Anthony's hand between breakfast and handing ourselves over to the magnitude of busyness that our day holds.  It was remembering in that moment to stop, hear and believe the words we were reading of faith and mustard seeds and no worry.  It was exercising the unequivocal privilege of talking to the God of the universe, and knowing that he hears us and knows better in all things than we do, that he'll whisper it to us if we'll listen.  And it was turning dry goods into playdough of varying shades when the house beckons loudly.

Sometimes the shape of grace requires stillness and contemplation.
And sometimes it's a blob and requires a skillet and cream of tartar.

(I snagged the playdough recipe here.)