every grace is a gift
every gift is a grace
if only I will look with
eyes wide open
look for the gifts
in the intricate
in the detail small
look for the lace in the trees
so often I see the entire forest
barely noticing trees individual
let alone branches and leaves
forming lace so delicate
patterns interweaving
intertwining
in the miraculous
for is not the
miracle true
found in the everyday?
when I allow this heart
these eyes
to rush through each day
I miss the grace
I miss the gifts
I miss the lace
the lace so subtle
the design so elusive
is perhaps seen most
clearly through the
eyes of a child
for is it not when we
are most hurried and harried
that little eyes seem to see
that dandelion waiting to be loved
that rollie pollie waiting to be touched
and we pull and push onward
perhaps the greatest blessing
I have found in grandmahood
is the joy in the simple
delight in the obscure
dancing in the rain
coloring in the night
figurines breakable
now become fairies with wings
oh to be sure a broken arm here
a wing missing there
but the gift is the grace
and the grace is the gift
and I am able to see the
lace in the trees
oh how I wish I had stopped
more often when my children
were young
to embrace the everyday
the ordinary
for therein lies the grace~gift
hidden within the lace
if only we will close
our eyes so we can see
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