Me, a Woman of Grace?

Oh, that's funny! Hysterical. 


You have met, or know, a woman like this: She brightens a room, can literally alter the energy before she opens her mouth. Her presence alone is uplifting, her warmth is genuine radiance, and her eye contact feels like a gift. Her compassion and confidence are unshakable. She knows herself well enough to be able to get to know you. She has no pretense about herself, has no need to hide because she lives in truth. She has no need to exalt or deprecate others or herself, and this allows others the freedom to be authentic in her company. She is the kind of woman who makes you check your posture, inside and out. She makes you want to think before you speak, not because you feel judged or compelled to impress her, but simply because she makes you want to be better. Her integrity draws others into the light. Her laughter is contagious. Her hugs feel so good you wonder how you can get another one without appearing needy. When she is happy, you want to celebrate with her. When she is struggling, you want to stand by her side.
 — Kristin Armstrong


I found this quote and it brought many women to my thoughts. 


Who comes to your mind when you read this? Your mom? Your grandmother? Maybe your sisters? A close friend? 


What about yourself? Are you a Woman of Grace?


Me? Hah! Noooo! Not in the figurative or literal of speaking. I speak my mind, without filtering my thoughts first. I would rather wear sweats and a tank top and my flip flops than dress like a lady. I have terrible posture and I belch like a truck driver. Learning ball room dancing while balancing a dictionary on my head has never been an option. You're much more likely to find me flying over the handles of my bicycle on my way down Suicide Hill. And for the record; that happened more than once. It was rather messy.


A Woman of Grace can be a difficult title to obtain, though it's easy to see the kind of influence women like this portray. I admire any woman patient enough with herself to become graceful. 


Being 22 years old...well, I'm still a kid really. A baby. I'm impatient, and sometimes cranky. Graceful is the last word I would use to describe myself. I'm learning that being graceful takes time. It takes being loving, and selfless. It takes allowing room for people, who have deeply hurt you, to change for the better. 


Over the past few months I've acquired the skills and wisdom to be graceful. But to be honest...I don't want to be graceful most of the time. I want to be right. See...told you I'm still a kid. Sometimes, being calloused and heartless just seems easier. Between cramming my emotions in a dark corner and leaving them there, and living on coffee due to a mix of ridiculous insomnia and slight depression, being calloused and heartless has just been easier...at least short term, anyway.


I don't want to be graceful. I want to be a Woman of Grace without having to work at it. That's what I want!! Maybe I will be graceful in small doses– maybe just for this evening, or during the three hours at church. Can those slender tendrils of grace take root in this calloused heart of mine?


I hope so.