To my younger self – graceful was how one walked across the room and spoke with assurance… neither of which I did well.
Graceful was the high school dance team I desperately wanted to belong to, but never made the cut.
Graceful was my aunt, standing on the tarmac in her broad-brimmed hat, looking like Grace Kelly, waiting for me to exit the plane… with a trip and a stumble.
To my older self – graceful is the tired mom who wants to be alone, but knows reading the bed-time story or having that heart to heart needs doing… now.
Graceful is the one who faces cancer every day, living life fully… and no one would even know.
Graceful is the one who risks to share their faith, or their love, or their time, or all of the above… and seems to reap no reward. But they keep going.
Graceful is God who refreshes every day and forgives… when I am so often less than graceful.
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