Grace

We all need some.

Drawing by Annette Cutts

What is "grace" anyway? It's a word in common usage, but when I started to think about all the contexts in which it is used, I became quite intrigued. Here are just a few examples that came immediately to mind for me. I'm sure you'll be able to think of more:

Entering or leaving a challenging situation with grace -- despite a difficult situation, the person is rising above the difficulty and holding their head high (as in "grace under fire" or "grace under pressure")

To move with grace -- to move smoothly, perhaps even effortlessly, in a pleasing manner ... as in graceful, perhaps referring to a skilled skater or ballet dancer.

A gracious person -- someone who is kind, thankful, warm - and a kind recipient of a compliment or a gift; or someone who extends an offer in a kind way.

Grace note - a musical note that is an adornment or embellishment, meant to evoke pleasure

Grace period - a time when something might normally be due (as a payment), but during which there is no penalty -- offered at the pleasure of the lender

Grace before meals - a prayer offering thanks for food

In a religious meaning, grace often refers to a gift from the divine that was given without being earned - it was given unconditionally

In virtually all of these meanings and connotations, grace describes how a person relates to another person or to spaces they inhabit. It is not typically seen as the possession of an individual that has any independent meaning. It's how a person interacts with an other, either as giver or recipient -- even a musical grace note is meant to evoke pleasure between the musician and the listener.

Grace has an additional special meaning for me, as it was the name of my dear Golden Retriever, who crossed the rainbow bridge last June after an extended illness. Grace's full name, bestowed by Susan, was actually "Helen's Amazing Grace," named after my mother-in-law Helen Burton Miskell (whose poetry I wrote about HERE), and "Amazing Grace," which was one of her favorite hymns - and one which we sang at Helen's and Susan's respective memorial services.

I've been wanting to give the story of Grace its due here for a while, but had been waiting until the time felt right. Now it does. During these very dark times, memories of Grace warm my heart.

Grace was my first dog ever; she came into my life when I was in my 60s. When I was growing up, my mother hated dogs and my father hated cats, so my sister and I made due with guinea pigs and parakeets. Nothing against them, but they were on the lower end of the companionship scale. Susan and I have had cats pretty continually since we were married; but increasingly, she wanted a dog as well, as she grew up with one. I dragged my feet for many years, citing our busy lives and the work required of a dog owner. But after she retired, things came to a head.

One fine summer day, we drove to Toronto where I was to attend a professional conference and Susan was planning to explore. The first morning, as I was heading out the hotel door to attend a session, I asked what she was going to do during the day. She said, and I think I’m quoting: “I’m driving up to northern Ontario to meet with a dog breeder whose blog I’ve been following for several years – so now that I’m retired, we are going to get a white Golden Retriever.” Well, I was gobsmacked, but what could I say?? (I have no memory of what I said!)

She went and signed the paperwork, and then we drove back up there a few months later on a freezing New Year’s Eve to pick up our beloved Gracie. Without Susan's stretching me over the years in various ways, I probably would have led a pretty boring life. I certainly would have fewer stories to tell!

I think it would be fair to say that our relationships with Grace were full of grace, in the relational sense. There were some days that were more graceful than others, but the kind, generous reciprocity radiating to and from Grace was palpable.

I learned so much from Grace.

Perhaps most importantly, both Susan's and Grace's extended illnesses taught me how to ask for help from others and accept it with grace. In both cases, I simply could not do all that was needed on my own.

Although I could cite many examples, I'll give just one. Grace was a large dog, weighing 65 - 70 pounds. In her younger days, she willingly got into the trusty Subaru by hopping up on the back seat and then hopping over the seat into the rear area, where her comfy bed was.

When I got my new car on Halloween 2020, she tried to hop up in the usual way but fell backwards onto the garage floor. After a few more failed attempts, she was no longer willing to try. (The new seats were black rather than the earlier tan color, and they may have made it harder to judge the distance. I'll never know.)

Anyway, she needed to get in the car - at least to visit the vet. This was around the time that I was in significant pain prior to my hip replacements, and I couldn't get her in on my own. I needed help. And the wonderful friends I asked graciously offered to help -- all the way til her last day in June 2024. I discovered that when I felt totally alone, people were willing to help if I only let them know what I needed. Special thanks to local friends Mike, Andrea, and Paul who loved her and were always happy to help.

This lesson from Grace has transferred to numerous other situations I've encountered in the past 5 years, and I am so grateful for what she taught me - as well as for the many ways my friends have helped me.

My amazing sister Debbie visited the weekend that Grace crossed over that bridge, and she made the thoughtful observation that Grace's living for the past year beyond Susan's passing helped me to keep moving ahead every day. That was so true, but it hadn't occurred to me to think of it in that way. Gracie gave me a reason to get up every morning, to let her out, to make her special diet meatballs and feed her by hand twice a day, and to have a daily routine that kept me on track. She may have sensed that now that I had gotten some of my mojo back, she could take her leave. I know we shouldn't impute such thoughts to animals, but Grace was an empath, and a loving one. I shared this reflection with a dear friend of mine, and his immediate response was both simple and profound: "All life is connected." Yes indeed - all life is connected.

One more story: Being from northern Canada, Grace grew up in the snow and loved it. One of her favorite activities was romping around our snow-covered yard, digging tunnels and making snow angels. When I was using the snow blower, she loved to chase the plume of snow as I was going back and forth. The first time I used it this season, a wave of sadness came over me - it was the first time in about 10 years that she and I hadn't done the snowblowing together.

When the snow was starting to melt, there were usually a few piles that were the last to go. Grace was always on top of the tallest one. At doggy day care, I believe they called her the Snow Queen.

Facebook recently posted this "memory" of her - from a post on December 13, remembering back to the same day in 2015. Here's the famous photo plus another one showing her sitting in the snow with her favorite toy, Lambchop. We kept a supply of new ones on hand for her, and I have one on the mantle next to her photo.

In the spirit of grace and gratitude, I will conclude with a note of thanks to Annette Cutts, who prepared the drawing of Grace at the top of this essay. I saw a drawing she had done of another friend's cat and was quite impressed. I commissioned Annette and shared with her a folder of about 25 photos, and I'm very pleased with the result. Annette lives in Bolton, England (NW of Manchester), but works with clients all over the world. Note from her: If anyone wants to see my work they can do so on my facebook page at Netties drawing board on the following link. Netties drawing board | Facebook

My wish is that we all find someone or something that inspires us and gives us the grace to move forward, as we experience news every day that is increasingly disorienting. I thank my Gracie for helping to ground me. Once the snow melts this spring, I will be dispersing her ashes under a tree where she loved to sit with her Lambchop babies. Her memory is indeed a blessing.