Some sacred spaces are easier to recognize than others.  Some gifts are easier to accept than others.

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It’s March in Minneapolis.  The cruelest month I think, although it vies with April.  In March we about despair that we’ll ever see any color other than white and gray again.  But then as we slog through the cinder/slush of March and April every once in awhile there’s a teaser.  A mini thaw, and you start to think maybe you’ve heard a birdsong or that your eyes aren’t deceiving you and maybe that’s a tiny bud there on the tree…but no, then it snows again and your hopes are buried just like your car under another monstrous white dump.

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It’s been in this cruel month that we’ve been blessed to spend two whole weeks in Hawaii, one of them with our daughters – our last family vacation before Maggie gets married and everything changes.  And on top of everything this trip was a gift.  That’s right, a gift from some generous friends.  I’m embarrassed to say it out loud.

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It’s a gift we don’t deserve.  We didn’t earn.  We didn’t ask for.  It’s lavish and over-the-top and we feel spoiled rotten.  And so for the first few days we were here all I felt was guilt. I thought, I shouldn’t let myself enjoy this.  I thought of many other people who work so hard and would love to be here too.

And then God whispered “Grace.”

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