But he gives us more grace.
In Korea I feel as though I don’t have much more than grace and kimchi to get me through. But here in America there’s my mom’s lasagna, my dad’s pancakes, my sister’s cookies, Mama Penning chili, friends and family and a cozy fireplace. Grace is probably here, too, somewhere, but it’s buried beneath the tree and presents and Home.
The one thing Korea might have over America is sunshine. Since I arrived home ten days or so ago, I think it’s only been properly sunny on two of them—one of which I was cooped up in a plane for. Between the clouds and familiarity, it’s a lot harder to see the grace over here.
But it’s Christmas! And if there was ever a time for grace, it’s Christmas. Grace for your waistline as you eat some cookies. Grace for your crazier family members as they do what they always do which is not what you do on Christmas. Grace for your friends. Grace for hectic shopping malls and the impatient.
For me, I’m going to take some time this Christmas for grace. It’s always there—God is a constant quality of the world—but it’s hard to give it and even harder to receive it. That’s why Christmas is hard, perhaps. And life? Grace—and its very close but ineffable compatriot, joy—is its focal point.
So Merry Christmas, all y’all. May you find God’s grace in your life. May you find it, dwell upon it, immerse yourself in it: receive it, and give it. And may it give you joy.