I knew it then as grace and not entitlement.
I knew it, knew it,
and embraced it with humble joy,
but the substance of delight faded with the days, the gathering of life events.
The hollow and impoverished part of me hungered for the next grace and left those weighty memories thankless, parceled away in unused closets of my heart, sealed with callous.
I didn’t mean to be thankless.
I didn’t mean to sequester such important things into the vagueness of my busyness.
Forgotten grace, long past.
To remember, to honor, is to feel again the rich grace lavishly rained on one so unworthy.