very rarely, I also came across someone else: a person whose inside and outside were such a perfect match they almost had the power to mend hearts themselves. So is it any wonder that, when the wind brought me the sound of a girl named “Grace,” I hurried to see what she looked like?
Grace.
What a lovely possibility-filled name. Possibility for generosity, for forgiveness. If there was an opposite to Sorrow, it seemed Grace just might be it. So I hurried to see her, following the wind, and discovered that this Grace was not alone. She had a young man with her, and even eyes much less perceptive than mine could have seen that these two were in the midst of a quarrel.
Most people can’t see me. The tales told about me say that this is because I’m not meant to be seen by ordinary eyes. The truth is slightly different, I think: I’m not intended to be seen by ordinary hearts.
Nevertheless, over the years I have learned to be careful, learned it’s best to keep out of sight. Sudden revelations that bedtime stories might actually bereal are unsettling, to say the least. I’m here to mend hearts, not to stop them with fright.
For obvious reasons, it’s easiest for me to conceal myself when the world around me contains a lot of snow or ice, but even on a warm summer’s day I can usually find a pocket of air in which to hide. The trouble with being concealed, of course, is that sometimes you witness events you wish you hadn’t. This is precisely what happened with Grace and Kai.
That was his name, the young man with her. Kai—to rhyme with sigh. And Grace was giving him plenty to sigh about, I soon discovered.
With both hands, Grace was pushing away love.
I don’t get angry very often. There’s just no purpose in it. Getting mad about something usually makes whatever caused your anger in the first place even worse. But the sight, the sound, of what was happening between these two made me angry, angrier than I’d been in a good long while. Angrier than I could ever remember being, in fact.
Grace was doing two things no one ever should: She was denying the possibilities of her name, and she was denying the potential of love.
Gently putting love aside is one thing. None of us can accept all of what we may be offered in this life. Sometimes we must say no, even to love.
But this girl named Grace was pushing love away with both hands, arms straight out in front of her, elbows locked. With all the force of her being, she was pushing away a great gift, and the worst thing of allwas that it seemed to me she was doing it without truly consulting her heart.
Oh, she thought she was. She thought she was doing just what her heart wanted. Her words made that clear enough. But with a name like Sorrow, I can always spot it in another. I have to. It’s part of my job.
And so I knew that this girl, this Grace, had sorrow and pain and fear in her heart, and I also knew she was denying they were there just as fiercely as she was refusing love. In spite of all her words about freedom, her heart was bound.
You are just like my mother, Grace, I thought. A name and a heart so at odds that one could not find the other.
And with this realization, I felt my anger fade. I watched as the argument reached its conclusion and the young man spun on one heel and set off for home. The wind hurried after, barely taking the time to swirl around Grace before dashing against Kai, plastering the shirt he wore against his back.
He stopped, and my heart began to beat so hard and fast the sound of it rang in my ears. I watched as Kai’s head turned quickly from side to side, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of something he was sure was there but could not quite see.
And suddenly, I was dizzy. Possible paths opened before me only to splinter and then re-form like the colorful pieces of a kaleidoscope. That was the moment I understood, even as Kai was hunching hisshoulders against the wind and continuing to walk. As Grace was standing alone, her
Grace.
What a lovely possibility-filled name. Possibility for generosity, for forgiveness. If there was an opposite to Sorrow, it seemed Grace just might be it. So I hurried to see her, following the wind, and discovered that this Grace was not alone. She had a young man with her, and even eyes much less perceptive than mine could have seen that these two were in the midst of a quarrel.
Most people can’t see me. The tales told about me say that this is because I’m not meant to be seen by ordinary eyes. The truth is slightly different, I think: I’m not intended to be seen by ordinary hearts.
Nevertheless, over the years I have learned to be careful, learned it’s best to keep out of sight. Sudden revelations that bedtime stories might actually bereal are unsettling, to say the least. I’m here to mend hearts, not to stop them with fright.
For obvious reasons, it’s easiest for me to conceal myself when the world around me contains a lot of snow or ice, but even on a warm summer’s day I can usually find a pocket of air in which to hide. The trouble with being concealed, of course, is that sometimes you witness events you wish you hadn’t. This is precisely what happened with Grace and Kai.
That was his name, the young man with her. Kai—to rhyme with sigh. And Grace was giving him plenty to sigh about, I soon discovered.
With both hands, Grace was pushing away love.
I don’t get angry very often. There’s just no purpose in it. Getting mad about something usually makes whatever caused your anger in the first place even worse. But the sight, the sound, of what was happening between these two made me angry, angrier than I’d been in a good long while. Angrier than I could ever remember being, in fact.
Grace was doing two things no one ever should: She was denying the possibilities of her name, and she was denying the potential of love.
Gently putting love aside is one thing. None of us can accept all of what we may be offered in this life. Sometimes we must say no, even to love.
But this girl named Grace was pushing love away with both hands, arms straight out in front of her, elbows locked. With all the force of her being, she was pushing away a great gift, and the worst thing of allwas that it seemed to me she was doing it without truly consulting her heart.
Oh, she thought she was. She thought she was doing just what her heart wanted. Her words made that clear enough. But with a name like Sorrow, I can always spot it in another. I have to. It’s part of my job.
And so I knew that this girl, this Grace, had sorrow and pain and fear in her heart, and I also knew she was denying they were there just as fiercely as she was refusing love. In spite of all her words about freedom, her heart was bound.
You are just like my mother, Grace, I thought. A name and a heart so at odds that one could not find the other.
And with this realization, I felt my anger fade. I watched as the argument reached its conclusion and the young man spun on one heel and set off for home. The wind hurried after, barely taking the time to swirl around Grace before dashing against Kai, plastering the shirt he wore against his back.
He stopped, and my heart began to beat so hard and fast the sound of it rang in my ears. I watched as Kai’s head turned quickly from side to side, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of something he was sure was there but could not quite see.
And suddenly, I was dizzy. Possible paths opened before me only to splinter and then re-form like the colorful pieces of a kaleidoscope. That was the moment I understood, even as Kai was hunching hisshoulders against the wind and continuing to walk. As Grace was standing alone, her
Similar Books
