Falling grace

"How surely gravity’s law,

Strong as an ocean current,

Takes hold of even the smallest thing

And pulls it toward the heart of the world…

This is what the things can teach us:

to fall,

patiently to trust our heaviness."

Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours

Drummer boy husband and I took our inherited dog for a walk this past weekend. This is the picture I snapped in front of our house. This is beauty.

I love fall. It’s my most favorite time of the year. I love the fall smells, the warmth of the sunshine and the clear crisp nights. I love fall candles and pumpkin patches. I love sweatpants and my old warn sweatshirts and curling up on the deck with a glass of wine. I love the colors of the leaves against blue skies and I love listening to the leaves fall. It’s pure grace. I pondered that this weekend…

I thought of how many times I’ve fallen and how it is anything but graceful. Literally or figuratively, it doesn’t matter, my falls are messy. I’m Jill in Jack and Jill, tumbling after myself. Sometimes I pretend I didn’t fall. I look around and if no one is watching I get up, brush myself off and go on with my day. I’m cool like that. My niece told me she once fell down the spiral staircase in Anthropology in New York City where she lives. I asked her what she did. She said she tucked and rolled. (She’s cool too.) I asked if that helped. She said it saved her life. I decided I needed to take tuck and roll classes.

Sometimes God breaks my falls by providing a branch for me to hang out on for a bit. I like those times. I’m aware. I’m present. I’m grateful. I’m hopeful. I’m safe. But then I get comfortable and SNAP… the branch breaks. Drummer boy husband has gotten good at putting me back together. He’s a fixer. He worries a lot about me. He’s afraid he won’t be able to find all my pieces. I tell him not to worry…most of us come with extra pieces.

It seems I can’t rush my falling. I can’t tumble faster. I just need to trust that God in His infinite wisdom will provide a branch or a rock for me when I need to rest. Sometimes the heaviness is comforting, sometimes it’s terrifying but mostly it’s just there. As the poem says, I must trust and be patient. The laws of gravity are at work.

Drummer boy husband and I enjoyed a warm fall evening last night, sipping wine, smoking cigars. I sat listening to the leaves falling. I pondered it all again. Maybe my falling (tuck and roll) is saving my life.

And maybe grace, God’s grace is why I’m falling.