Blessed be the One, Holy and Living God.

I’ve been awash in grace, the past few days. I haven’t done anything in particular to deserve it, I don’t think—I just feel really loved.

I found out last Monday that I’d be preaching in the chapel this coming Tuesday. I did family stuff all day Wednesday, and wasn’t here. I got an e-mail from my classmate who preached last week, saying she was praying for me. Thursday morning, I pulled my resources together and started working on it. The Gospel is the “pearl of great price.” The feast day celebrates a founder of the Oxford Movement, who was silenced from preaching for two years, for something he’d said. Risk/worth, silence/speaking—I don’t know what I’m going to say yet, but I know I can do this. It’s right up my alley. The senior sermon is a rite of passage—it has to be good—and these texts hit me where I live. And I know that writing it will further transform me. I am not afraid anymore.

I carried this assurance into a meeting with Marcia in the business office, who handles our financial aid stuff for us. She asked how I was, and we got talking. I told her about Wednesday, realizing as I spoke that what’s happening is not in a vacuum. I have always had fantastic friends. (I’ve told my Cali family that they remind me very much of my Olympia one.) God knows, how you gravitate to certain people, and they to you. Some relationships are only explained by grace. My friends who can, have always done a lot for me. Sometimes materially—always on a soul level, which is where I count wealth anyway. You celebrate what you’re swimming in.

Marcia mentioned something she saw when she first met me. I said, “Yeah, but when I first met you I was a road-weary mess and my phone didn’t work, and you helped me.” She remembers that too—and she says that we are only mirrors for each other. I can’t see anything that’s not in me. All I’m giving is what I see.

For her, it’s karma. For me, it’s grace. I can recognize that I’ve been giving love and good energy—but what I’m receiving is so enormous, in proportion. This cannot be only up to me.

My pre-discernment prayer group met on Thursday night. I opened, easily, but I couldn’t empty—so much is going on, and it’s all so good. I felt like I was floating. Every time I came back to God, I felt so deeply, exuberantly loved.

I e-mailed my mother earlier in the week, and I gave her the link to this blog. Our history is not for public consumption, but that is a huge big deal. She wrote back yesterday morning; a brief, nice note.

Marcia gave me a birthday present, yesterday. It’s a little metallic heart, with flowers all around it. She’d bought two; one for herself and one to give away. She knew after we talked, that this was mine.

It’s so little—and it means so much.

I had a headache from yesterday afternoon until bedtime—but the light is still glowing. It’s palpable.

Glory to God for ever and ever.