States of Grace

Finally remembering what grace means and feels like

I have a hard time remembering what the word grace means. This lapse in memory always surprises me a little, since I went to Seventh Day Adventist schools for 12 years and heard the word used often. But maybe that's part of the problem: I heard grace spoken about so much that it stopped making sense.

We use grace to describe how someone behaves or moves through the world, and we use grace as shorthand for the blessing said before a meal. Those definitions are the ones that pop into my mind first when I hear the word. That's usually followed by thinking of the term “grace period”—something I've used often when it comes to paying bills or submitting forms. Back when I worked as a freelance editor and journalist, I liked to say “I live on the edge of deadlines.”

It's the definitions tied to Christianity that give me pause. There’s this one from Merriam-Webster.com: “unmerited divine assistance given to humans for their regeneration or sanctification.” Then there’s other definitions: “the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God” or “undeserving favor of God.” All of these make me cringe a bit, especially the terms “unmerited” and “undeserving.” I know that’s supposed to mean grace is received without having to do anything, but I’m a perfectionistic overachiever, raised with that pesky Puritan work ethic. Shouldn’t I at least try to earn that grace? Is it really free? Aren’t there hidden fees, maybe a spiritual price increase after a few months of complimentary grace?

This is where the more secular version of grace comes in, as various folks (especially in spiritual and self-help circles) talk about extending yourself grace. I scratch my head and try to figure out what they mean. Because if God extends grace to us when we don't deserve it, how do we do that for ourselves?

I don't know if it's inherently human to be hard on ourselves, but I know I'm very hard on myself and that's likely the reason why I feel so challenged by the concept of grace. Extending myself grace means I stop beating myself up for the things I've done or haven't done, the choices I made that were not the best ones, or the times I ignored my intuition and ended up suffering the consequences.

I'm well aware of the areas where I most need to extend myself grace. Back in May 2020, I began a fitness regimen I called 50 by 50: drop 50 pounds before my 50th birthday. I worked hard the rest of that year and got down by 23 pounds, but after that it got harder and harder to release more weight.¹ In the last two years, all that weight came back, despite my best efforts, and it's been very difficult to get back into the rhythm of a diet and fitness program since then. It’s also been difficult to avoid feeling anger or shame at this personal failure.

Then there's my career path and finances. Fifteen years ago, I actively chose self-employment, and it offered me a lot of cool opportunities—but along with those opportunities came considerable financial instability. Whenever I started feeling really anxious about money, I’d apply to full-time jobs, but might not get any further than the first interview. I’d take part-time work, but those jobs were short-term and didn't pay very well. All the debts I accrued during those fifteen years have caught up to me, and while I'm working on paying them off, it is a source of frustration and shame for me.

And then there are my cats. Because of financial peaks and valleys thanks to self-employment, I haven't always had the resources to get consistent veterinary care for my cats. That leads to shame and guilt: how could I be so selfish as to adopt pets when I couldn't afford their care? How could I be a good cat owner if the best I could do was make sure they had food and a clean(ish) litter box? Losing Ippie on Friday triggered my feelings of guilt all over again.

But when I remember to stop those feelings of guilt and shame, and instead focus on extending myself grace, it's like a deep inhale. It pushes all the unworthiness from my lungs. It’s a moment of turning my focus inward and recognizing where I'm at in my life, what I'm capable of doing in any given moment, and that everything is okay. With each inhalation I remember I can change my behavior and my mindset to accomplish new goals, whether those are related to my personal health or my career path. I look at the 16 wonderful years I had with Ippie and remember how vibrant and spirited she was for all but the last six months of her life.

And once I exhale again, I'm finally able to remember what grace means, what it feels like, and I can allow that definition to sink deeper into my soul and allow it to become part of who I am.

1. I say release or reduce instead of lose because if I lose something, I tend to want to find it again.