But for the Grace of God go I: redux
Is it a prayer? Or a simple realization of fact and gratitude?
This one strikes me each time I read it. I hope my early readers will forgive me republishing it. I wrote this in a few minutes after having had a simple and profound experience. Frankly those moments happen quite often if I’m present enough and situationally aware enough to see them. When we place ourselves in the shoes of others we see and feel quite differently. Judgment slips away. Here’s what I felt that day back in March, 2023.
A person staggers into an AA meeting. Head held low. The sweet smell of alcohol and body order coming off them like steam. A face full of shame. Another relapse. Another attempt at change.
A person in handcuffs being forced into a patrol car. A person standing sheepishly in front of a judge—wishing for all they are worth that they’d made a different decision. The wreckage and detritus of whatever disaster or crime they’ve caused weighing down their shoulders—their entire being.
A person flat out on the floor of a bar. Black eye and forehead lump already forming. A crowd gathered around them—either laughing or reaching down to help.
A person sitting on a bench in a city park. Laptop bag beside them. Tears streaming down their cheeks. Their world has just crumbled somehow.
An angry person. Screaming at another person—their faces six inches away from one another. Holding a sign as a weapon. So sure in their correctness and righteousness. Convincing no one. Making it worse.
A person driving a car. So furious with the person in the car directly in front of them. Following too closely. Honking. Swerving. Passing on a double yellow to gain 100 feet. Trying with all their might to get the person in front of them to see—to understand—just how wrong they are to be driving the way they’re driving.
A person walking by another person who is sitting slumped against a building. Ignoring them. Judging them. Throwing shame on them like water.
A person sitting at their keyboard in the warmth of their own space. Reading the comments of another person they’ve never met who lives somewhere they’ve never been. Typing venom and then spewing it out for all the world to see.
A person. And another person. I’ve been that person. And that person. Right in this moment I’m not that person. I’m grateful. I will try to remember.
Early in my recovery, I was that lunatic in the car. I had someone in front of me who in my opinion didn't know how to drive. Slow down, speed up. So I got next to the car, so I could tell them what for. I looked over to see a clown. I thought to myself, but for the grace of God go I.
A reminder of how quick life can change and be radically different. I attempt mercy and grace in my daily life when dealing with others.