Moments of grace.

We were encouraged in this first week to think back to times that were moments of grace, "a moment where everything clicked, and you felt yourself a part of something greater, filled with joy and gratitude, completely absorbed in the moment so that you didn’t stop to analyze how happy you were, you just…felt it. The universe filled you up, God smacked you on the bottom, and you felt yourself born into something new and beautiful and beyond words."

The first one that jumped into my mind was my first time on a mission trip to Guatemala. I was a senior in high school, and was given the opportunity to join a small work trip from my church to work for a week at an orphanage outside of Guatemala City. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I was excited because I was going to get an opportunity to use my mad AP Spanish skills. The entire week was a shock of reality, and a moment of grace. It ended up being over Ash Wednesday, and that day, we climbed a "mountain" (read: large, steep hill) with about 30 kids. As we were climbing, we realized the farmers had just burned their fields for replanting. Our pastor picked up a baggie of ashes, and we had a small Ash Wednesday service in our hotel room later that evening, with the ashes from the mountain. From that moment on, I've felt like I carry a little bit of Guatemala with me, wherever I go. I go back as often as I am able, and have been 6 times. Every week is a week-long moment of grace. There are heart-wrenching moments, when you hear the stories of the horrible abuse the children have suffered, the awful lives most have had, you see the 12-year old pregnant girl, the baby with burn scars all over her body... But then you see the woman the abused girl became, and the life she has made for herself and her son. You hear the burned baby giggle. You see the 12-year old pregnant girl smile, with a shine of hope in her eyes. That's when you know something greater is going on, and that every hug you give is coming from another power to strengthen these children through their fight for life. I always come back feeling a very strong mix of emotions: angry that I can't do more, sad that I had to leave the kids in that situation, but elated that I was able to give them something of myself, and hope for a better future.


Another moment of grace that is reoccurring is being on stage, with my french horn. I never feel more at home, never feel happier, than when I get to play beautiful music. There is one piece of music that tops all others in regards to being a moment of grace. I've been fortunate to be able to play it once in my life, and hope to play it many times in the future. Gustav Mahler called his Second Symphony the "Resurrection." The fourth movement is a mezzo-soprano solo called Urlicht, and has the most beautiful and meaningful text I've ever heard. Playing it is a moment of grace, hearing a live performance is a moment of grace, and simply listening to a recording is a moment of grace. Everything about this piece is so inspiring, and makes me feel close to God.

Click here for a video of the piece
Click here for a translation of the text

The entire symphony is fantastic, and I encourage everyone to listen to it. The Finale is spectacular, and the text to the finale is below the text to the fourth movement on the same text link above. It is my favorite piece of music, and if I could only listen to one thing for the rest of my life, I think this would be it. Everything about it touches my heart and my spirit.

The last moment of grace I'm going to mention can all be summed up in one photo:

Path of Faith

For our first project, we were to make a path of faith. We were to take a piece of paper and in one corner write "Born" with a circle around it. In the opposite corner, we were to do the same with "Died." In between, we were supposed to write events that changed the course of our lives, or played an important role in our lives, draw circles around them, and draw a line connecting the circles. We were then to somehow label our faith practices at the time of each event, traveling through our lives. Finally, we were to write a big x with "You are Here!" designating where we are currently on our paths.

I've never been anything but Christian, but my faith has morphed throughout the years. I started childhood as United Methodist, happy in that faith as children usually are. Once middle school hit, I met some friends who were from the "real" churches, and was told that even though I'd believed in Jesus my entire life, I wasn't a "real" christian because I hadn't sat down and said the right sentence to invite him into my heart. So, I did. Therefore, I converted to a religion I already believed in. But, that's neither here nor there. I became one of those uppity snobby christians, and happily told others all about Jesus and how they might be going to hell if they didn't believe in him. I even told my best friend in High School that I was going to get her to convert if it's the last thing I do (she never did, and honestly, I'm glad). Towards the end of high school I started realizing I really didn't like being like that, and that's not the kind of faith I truly believe in. I also went on a mission/work trip to an orphanage in Guatemala, which changed my perspective on... well... everything. So, I started moving away from that, and became what I think of as a liberal Christian, or a hippie christian. College saw frequent periods of doubt, and I had stopped attending church all together. I still went on yearly mission trips to Guatemala, and have been 6 times. I finally realized that God is real, but he has a different relationship with each and every person. I cannot judge how anyone worships, or doesn't worship. It's up to God. So I now think of myself as a Wandering Christian, because even though I still adhere to the label, I think many christians would shun me for what I believe. But I think God and I are ok.