As a child, I thought that grace was a sacred word that only belonged in conversations about
God reaching down and saving a wretch like me. Like only my Heavenly Father
could extend grace, and it applied solely to that moment when He welcomed me
into His family.
I still think it's a sacred word, but I've come to
understand the fullness of its application.
Since moving back from South America to South Carolina this
past year, I have repeatedly asked for and been given grace during our immediate
adjustment period. Sometimes I didn't quite know how to ask for it and just
hoped people would understand and extend me grace without having to actually be told
how badly I needed it. Most days, I
wished I could wear a t-shirt that said, "WARNING: Missionary in re-entry.
Stand back."
The Wal-Mart checkout gal and all those people behind me in
line who wonder why I can't operate the debit card reader or figure out where
to put my buggy.
The church people who reach out to shake my hand about the
time I'm going in for cheek kisses, so we end in some awkward hug that sometimes
results in accidentally kissing on the mouth.
Family members who want us all to pile in on Sunday dinners
and holidays that last way past the tolerance level of my daughters, who now prefer
large groups in small windows of time only.
Friends who hold their breath while I am trying to complete
a sentence in English, even though the words won't come. Even better, friends
who try to interpret my hand signals and grunts.
I silently or loudly plead for grace in these and so many
more daily moments of chaos.
But it took me a bit to realize that as much as I need grace
during this time, so do the folks who were here going through normal American
life while I was off globetrotting.
They need me to understand that they don't understand.
I'm quick to notice my shortcomings and those of my
immediate family, that are a result of culture shock, but I forget that these
people around us don't know where we are coming from. They don't know what
we've lived through beyond what they've read on our blog or gleaned from the
newsletter or maybe, a few of them, seen in person for a few days at a time.
They don't know how different my gut reactions are from theirs
now, how many of my thoughts come to me in another language, and what I am very
used to doing as everyday activities.
They don't know that I'm a totally different person than
when I left in 2008.
When they have expectations of me that I can't meet, when
they just don't get it, when they assume things that are way off base, I have
to be able to recognize how little they actually know of what I've lived, and
then extend them the same grace I expect to receive.
Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full--pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back. Luke 6:38 NLT
