Last night I sat around the dinner table with my family, reestablishing conversation and relationships while a missing man hovered in everyone’s thoughts. My youngsters had managed well throughout the day, but were now giddy with the stress of a new life without their Grandpa and all the change that that entails.
The others, in-laws and my husband, carried on jovial conversation which wound itself around the dinner table and wrapped everyone, youngsters included, in a warm, comforting reassurance that family brings. Grace.
The youngsters learned from those of us not so young, but most especially from their Grandma, that life and family and faith are really one, and carry us in this life and beyond. Always grace. That saying goodby to a loved member of your family can be terribly sad, but it is not terrible, it is simply another part of the grace that defines us.
And as we sat, I realized the full meaning of the word “grace”
