Somedays I do not want to get out of bed.
The fire station on the corner let their sirens blare 15 minutes before my alarm. I think of the to-do list for the day ahead, and getting up just doesn’t sound like fun.
Then I think of coffee. I will not be able to have coffee unless I get up. I wish coffee would just appear without me having to get up and earn it. My husband has already left for work; the chances of unbidden coffee are low. If unbidden coffee were to appear, it would be a grace: a gift, undeserved. I would have done nothing to receive such an act of love and kindness.
I stretch in bed, chuckling to myself as I think of grace as a cup of coffee, but isn’t it? Do I think of grace just as huge moments of redemption and God showing up in some huge way? Isn’t grace in the small moments too?
I have a friend who uses social media sparingly and in a positive manner. One of the main ways he uses it is to share what he calls, “Grace Moments.” Each day, he posts four pictures from his
