The Gift of Grace

There are times when we are firmly in the right. The facts are clear. The other person made a mistake or caused harm. In that moment, we face a choice. We can leverage our position of strength and press our advantage. Or we can give grace.

Grace is the strength to let go of proving a point. The willingness to give someone space to recognize what went wrong and find their way back. Every one of us needs that space, because every one of us makes mistakes.

Grace holds truth in one hand and love in the other. It sees what happened and names it honestly. It also holds out the invitation to begin again. In this way, grace strengthens relationships and helps keep them whole.

Grace looks to the future. A person rarely grows when held down by another’s righteousness. They grow when they feel the freedom to face their mistakes with dignity. Grace creates space for that freedom.

The flow of grace is a gift that we depend on. It honors truth. It protects relationships. When we give grace, we often find that it changes us as well.

We may discover that the person we extend grace to carries burdens we never knew about. When we choose grace over vindication, we become more human, more aware of our own weaknesses, and more capable of genuine compassion.

“Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do.” – Col 3:12–13

Photo by Mrugesh Shah on Unsplash

What I Thought I Knew

What I Thought I Knew

There was a time I made a big leap “out the window.” I walked away from something I thought I had to escape. I didn’t have a detailed plan, just a deep sense that staying where I was would burn me out.

What I should have realized at the time was that while I was escaping one fire, I was just trading for another.

That’s the thing about decisions. They rarely come with clarity. They come wrapped in burdens and hope and urgency, all dressed up to look like certainty. But certainty is often just a story we tell ourselves to keep moving.

I’ve gone back and questioned plenty of decisions. I’ve hit pause, looked around, and asked, “Was that the right thing to do?”

Sometimes the answer is no. And that’s okay.

I’ve made wrong turns. I’ve said yes when I shouldn’t have. I’ve said no when I was afraid. But here’s something I’ve learned the hard way: wrong turns can still move us forward. Even the “mistakes” taught me something. Sometimes they were the only way I could learn the lessons I needed to learn.

Side note: If you can learn from watching someone else’s journey, that’s often preferable to taking the hard knocks that accompany most of the big lessons in life.

The truth is, not every decision will hold up to hindsight. And not every success will look like success right away. Some answers show themselves slowly. They show up only after struggle, reflection, and time. They need hardship to help them mature. Sometimes they even need failure.

I’m lucky. Along the way, there were people who didn’t try to fix me. They just stood with me while I figured it out. They gave me space to question, to re-route, to second guess. That kind of support is rare. And I’m grateful.

To those people: thank you. You helped me see what I wasn’t ready to see. You let me grow into the answers I didn’t even know I was seeking.

These days, I’ve learned to forgive myself for the detours. For the second thoughts. For the “what ifs” I’ll probably carry forever. I’ve changed my mind, more than once. With every shift, I’ve learned to find moments of peace.

Here’s the point: Maybe wandering is the way.

Wisdom doesn’t show up all at once. It grows, shifts, even contradicts itself. Sometimes it stumbles. Sometimes it starts over.

One thing I know for sure: What I thought I knew was only the beginning.

Photo by Andrew DesLauriers on Unsplash

Looking for Permission

We might imagine doing the impossible, but the easy path is to deny ourselves permission to try.

We’re taught at an early age to seek permission.  At the most basic level, permission is a great defense against chaos.  Imagine if every kid did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.  For that matter, imagine if every adult did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.  Chaos would result.

We seek direct, indirect, and implied permission.  We operate within the bounds of what our cultural traditions permit.  We stay within what the law permits, at least most of the time.

The permission of others surrounds us.  It shelters us from responsibility.

The big challenge comes when we start asking ourselves for permission.  We look for a direction that fits within our comfort zone.  We seek our own okay to try something new.  We can imagine doing the impossible, but the easiest path is to deny ourselves permission to try.

When we can’t get permission from ourselves, we look for it elsewhere.  We ask our friends and family.  We read articles, blog posts, and books.  We listen to podcasts and speeches (TED talks come to mind).  All is an effort to find someone who approves.

We wonder if anyone else is thinking the same things.  What would they do?  How would they handle this?

Permission’s power is immense.  Without permission, our next indicated step is a mystery.  The un-permitted transforms into the impossible before our eyes.  “Hey, nobody else is doing this thing, so it must be a bad idea.  Let’s bail.”

I’ve read many times that each of us is the product of the five or ten people we interact with the most.  If this is true, we’re really the product of what those five or ten closest people permit from us.  We grant each of them the power of their permission, often without realizing it.

What if those five or ten people, out of concern for our safety, or possibly their own comfort, don’t grant us the permission we seek?  What if their collective box of permission is too small for our life’s goals to fit?  Should we find another five or ten people?  Maybe.  But, that’s not the real answer.

The answer lies in realizing that the permission we seek comes from within.

Our ability to visualize the future, and see ourselves within that new reality is the change that’s needed.  Once we find the courage to consider and see that future, permission for growth and new challenges comes naturally.

Will this be easy?  No way!  This requires a commitment to personal responsibility.  You won’t have anyone else to blame, or forgive, when things go wrong.

You’ll be living a life without the foundation of outside permission.  Your internal permission will become that foundation.

The permission we seek from others must build upon our own internal permission, not the other way around.

“It is often easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.” —Grace Hopper

 

Photo Credit:  Unsplash.com, Aziz Acharki

Be the reason…

It’s easy to get blamed for things that go wrong. What if you actively try to be the reason for a bunch of good things and stop worrying about the blame?

someone goes beyond their limits

someone laughs today

someone has a fond memory they cherish

someone learns something new

someone chooses life

someone believes more deeply

someone cares beyond themselves

someone knows they have unlimited potential

your boss can’t imagine delivering results without you

your employees can’t imagine delivering results without you

both can deliver results without you because you’ve taken the time to ensure they can

each person you encounter remembers your positive energy

your children know right from wrong

your children are independent and productive members of society

someone finds clarity

someone uses their imagination

someone thinks first

someone stops using lame excuses

someone steps outside of their habits

someone enjoys their day

someone smiles

someone is forgiven

the world is more beautiful.

 

Photo Credit:  Unsplash.com, Michal Grosicki

The Truth about Grudges

The easy thing to do is turn each injustice into a grudge…

It doesn’t take long in life for injustice to come your way.

Your mommy takes your toy away before you’re finished with it.  Injustice!  How do you deal with it?  Maybe you cry, or throw a hissy fit.  Chances are, since your attention span at 18 months is pretty short, you’ll forget about the injustice and get another toy.

Life isn’t fair, and neither are some people.  Things go wrong.  Plans get up-ended.  Promises aren’t always kept.  A friend or family member may offend us.  Someone we love may destroy themselves with addiction.  We might be the victim of a heinous crime.

Live long enough, and the injustices (both real and imaginary) will pile up.  What to do?  Crying may be appropriate.  And there’s nothing like the emotional release of a good hissy fit every now and then.  But, after that, then what?

The easy thing to do is turn each injustice into a grudge.  That way, you can stack the latest grudge on top of the others you’re carrying.  If your grudges become disorganized, you can spend some quality time dwelling on them and get them reorganized.  If they get too heavy, enlisting the help of others to carry some of your grudges is always helpful.

The burden of a grudge is carried by the victim.  The perpetrator, whether real or not, carries no such burden.  The perpetrator may carry regret, but they feel none of the weight of your grudge.

In our quest to never forget the lessons of an injustice, we wrap these lessons inside the grudge.  It’s a package deal.

For this reason, letting go, forgiving, can seem impossible.  Forgiveness runs counter to our natural instincts.  But forgiveness is about much more than survival.  It’s about finding a way to thrive with a clear focus on the things in life that really matter.

Letting go of a grudge doesn’t mean ignoring the lesson.  It means freeing yourself from the weight that only you are carrying.