The definition of grace is that it's not deserved. It does not require a good night's sleep to give it, or a flawless record to receive it. It demands no particular backstory.~Leslie Jamison

I drove at night, the rain streaming down the windshield. Red and blue and green--and even purple this year--Christmas lights blinked on and off as I whisked past homes and stores. I wanted to feel cozy in the warm car, my mittened hands on the steering wheel. Instead, I felt blue. Sad. Karen Carpenter sang on the radio, "It's that time of year when the world falls in love..." I said out loud, "Oh, Karen. You sang like a bird. And then you didn't recover from an eating disorder. Your heart stopped beating. You must have been  sad too, even though you made so many people happy with your songs." I even thought about a church I'd attended years ago that had a "Blue Christmas" service for those parishioners who had terrible memories of Christmas. Childhood traumas. For those who'd lost a loved one. Those who mourned a divorce or a suicide or who suffered clinical depression. Sometimes green, fragrant wreaths and red bows can't touch pain. 

All I wanted to do was find a bench to sit on and watch it snow. There is no snow South in Carolina. I decided to write a letter to God. 

Dear God,

Time and again, you've spoken to me about your mercy, your understanding, your affections toward me. Your grace abounding to my spirit and emotions. Thank you for all your reassurances. I need many more. Help me to experience your tenderness. I am more skilled in self-effort, trying to fix and figure out things on my own rather than going to you. Create in me new mindsets, transform my thinking with your truth. Give me strength to stay the course. I call up Joseph and Daniel, Esther and David.  Ruth and Mary. I need the spirit of their faith and courage to move forward. Guide me, Wonderful Counselor, inside the natural realities of life. Help me to stay spiritually strong. Help me to be vulnerable with you, not hide from you as Adam and Eve did. Guard my heart from resentments, contempt or vengefulness. Allow me to be empathic without enabling. Keep me close to you. Make me joyful. Fill me with your hope.

A few days later, post letter writing, my 8-year-old grandson came over. After shooting a few baskets, we walked to a nearby grocery store and bought packets of hot chocolate--the kind with the little marshmallows you can sprinkle on top. As we walked home on that cold evening at dusk, he grabbed my hand and looked up at me. I gazed into his innocent blue eyes, took in his perfect face, smooth as marble, as he said, "Minou (My grandmotherly title. Pronounced ME NEW), I really like your condo complex. It's kind of like Whoville. You know, all the neighbors greeting each other and the Christmas lights on the windows. It makes me feel good inside." Sometimes grace and tenderness and reassurances come in the most unexpected moments.  I could see my breath as I whispered, "I'll receive your affection Lord. I receive."