Completing the Party: Thoughts on Grace

This is the (edited) text of a talk I gave at Living Spirit Church on Sunday, April 28th. Enjoy! 

Once upon a time in 2008, I was on routine at L’Arche*, feeling downcast. Most of the assistants on our house team were leaving that summer. Yet even as I dreaded saying goodbye, I saw a silver lining: I’d build stronger relationships with those who remained.

You can’t always get what you want …


I wanted to mark this place and time when I decided against despair. So I asked Theresa** and Cassandra** if they’d like to do Sidewalk Chalk.

Neither was remotely interested. (It’s one of the beautiful things about L’Arche: if someone isn’t interested, they’ll likely tell you.) But they were happy to go outside.

So I brought out chalk and thought about what to draw. I am not a visual artist; I can barely draw a stick figure. But I love words, so I decided to write.

One of the assistants who was leaving had introduced me to the writings of Frederick Buechner, so I wrote these words of Buechner’s on the pavement:

The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you.”

I added swirls and big letters. Strangers paused to read, smiling at me. When I was done, I stood, brushed my hands, and felt as though I’d crossed a threshold between my life as it was and my life as it would be.

I was going to have to say goodbye to people I thought I couldn’t live without, but I would carry on. I’d accepted my part in the great cosmic party.


But when I started writing this talk, I didn’t feel like celebrating. I’ve had some very exciting things happen with my writing and speaking in the last few months, but this past week I found out that I hadn’t been selected for a prestigious creative arts fellowship.

If I’d received the fellowship, I would have had a full year and $40,000 to devote to my next book. So I put a lot of love and effort into the application. But it wasn’t to be.

Even though I know that rejection is part of the writing game, it still hurt. I felt like more talented artists were on the dance floor, while I was a wallflower, unwelcome.

I’ve been there before, so I know how tempting it is to dive into more work and deny, deny, deny. It’s hard to have a hope, a dream, a sense that you have a shot, and then see it fade away.


… But if you try sometimes, you get what you need.
~The Rolling Stones

What I didn’t tell you before was that my best friend, a beautiful person and a talented writer, also applied for this fellowship. We cheered each other on, read each other’s drafts, offered suggestions, and promised that we’d both celebrate if one of us received the award.

As it turns out, she didn’t receive it either. We exchanged bummed-out texts, and she helped me by admitting that she, too, was sad. And she wrote, What nice wallow-y thing will you do for yourself?

It was the perfect message, because it put me on the spot. This is what real friends do:  teach us how to be kind to ourselves.

So I had some chocolate and watched the Gilmore Girls. I acknowledged the loss before pushing myself to achieve again. And I wrote this talk, as an act of affirmation.

I have a choice. I can beat myself up and engage in negative self-talk. Or I can choose to believe that I’m part of a party, an honored guest, just like you. I can choose to believe in a God of grace and second (and third and fourth) chances.


And after the Boston Marathon bombings last month, people started posting the lines that follow the ones I wrote on the sidewalk:

Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It’s for you I created the universe. I love you.

There’s only one catch. Like any other gift, the gift of grace can be yours only if you’ll reach out and take it. Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too.”

Today, I give thanks for people like you, those who help me to believe these words. Because I don’t think we can fully believe or understand them outside the context of relationship.

What’s going to help me get through the disappointment and rejections is the fact that I’m not alone in them. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I do know that real friendship is a gift.

Friends on the journey of LIFE.


Even if we lose, we don’t lose alone. And if we win, we win together. That’s the promise of true friendship, and it’s what God promises us from before we were born and long after we die.

To be with us always. To go as far as it takes, as long as it takes, to reach us.

To give us gifts beyond our wildest imaginings.

And to help our very hands open up to receive them at last.


What’s your experience of true friendship? Join the conversation in the comments!


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*L’Arche (French for ‘The Ark’) is a faith-based non-profit that creates homes where people with and without intellectual disabilities share life together.

**Names have been changed.

On Launching An Ebook (And Reliving Dance Class)

I went for a run on Saturday night, to clear my head.

On the whole, I’d spent a satisfying day…

  • shipping a thank-you gift to my best friend and virtuoso (ebook + interior) designer Tammy
  • drafting the chapter outline and first few pages of my next ebook (!)
  • doing 2 hours, 22 minutes of line edits for “Your Creed Of Care” with Tammy, via Skype
  • eating tacos with my husband.

All this should have added up to a sense of accomplishment (except, perhaps, for the tacos.) “Your Creed Of Care” was (is) moving along right on schedule. It looks amazing, thanks to Tammy. It’s 65+ pages of effort and inspiration and storytelling. I’m so excited to share it with you tomorrow.

Yet despite all this, I felt…unprepared. Fearful. Neurotic. So I laced up my sneakers and headed out.

Whenever something big is troubling me, I go for a run. Being in motion helps me process. I went for a run the night after my friend Vincent* had a stroke. I went for a run the day my friend’s mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. You get the idea.

I didn’t know what was wrong; I just knew it felt good to run. And as I was climbing the stairs to our apartment, I felt the tears start. Why am I crying? I thought. What is going on?

Part of it was that my dear friend Allison was in the hospital, doing chemo and trying to stay alive. It was breaking my heart. Another part of it was about my childhood dance classes…which I haven’t attended in over a decade. When my husband saw my tears, it all came pouring out.

“I hate to think of Allison in pain! I hate it! And…and…I used to love my dance class. I grew up there. The studio used to feel like a magical place.

And then I got older and I got glasses and I started feeling like an outsider everywhere, even at dance class. I hated wearing my glasses there. The popular girls were in my class, and I wasn’t popular. I stood on the outskirts of their conversations. I didn’t know how to talk to them. Something I used to love was fraught with embarrassment and exclusion.

And I love writing. I love A Wish Come Clear. It’s my work, and it feels exactly like me. But I’m scared to share my book because I’m afraid of being rejected. I don’t want it to be like dance class.

I’m afraid of being laughed at…God! I feel like a little girl, standing on the edges of the dance floor, feeling like no matter what I do, I’ll never belong.”

I was sobbing…and laughing. It was a little ridiculous. And it also made sense. Of course I was afraid to launch an ebook…just as I was afraid to try new steps in dance class. I wouldn’t let myself try, because what if I screwed up? What if I gave people even more of a reason to exclude me?

All my anxiety wasn’t really about the launch. It was about a little girl, a girl who wanted so badly to belong. To be seen. To be loved and affirmed for her presence, for her contribution.

And now, having uncovered that old pain, I can, at last, be healed.

In a strange way, that hurt has become a blessing. Now, it’s as though 25-year-old me can reassure that scared little girl:  “Don’t worry. I can see your future…and you do get to belong. You meet some beautiful women who become your best friends. You meet an amazing man who loves you exactly as you are. You have adventures and deep relationships. And, guess what! You achieve your dream of becoming a writer. In fact, you have your first book coming out tomorrow!”

It’s enough to make me want to get up and dance.



*Names have been changed.