Overwhelmed by Grace
Pearl Jam sings an excellent song called Sirens that has this refrain:
It’s a fragile thing, this life we lead
If I think too much, I can get over-
Whelmed by the grace, by which we live
Our lives with death over our shoulders
Want you to know that should I go
I always loved you, held you high above too
I studied your face, the fear goes away.
If you’ve been reading this blog, or if you’ve known me for longer than a few moments, then you know that I am a big Pearl Jam fan. I am particularly fond of Eddie Vedder’s writing. Like many other young teenagers listening to their debut album Ten in 1991 I felt described…like deep unspoken and emotional parts of me were given voice when Eddie sang out in his baritone screams. And 30 years later I continue to feel that way.
Sirens accurately describes my emotions this past month. There have been a series of events that have shaken me and have caused me to think about this fragile life we lead. In one sense it feels like nothing has really changed since the beginning of 2020 with the advent of the pandemic, and then the loss of Kate’s dad a year ago…these recent events have been a continuation of that same feeling of powerlessness and fragility.
Eddie sings, “Will the sirens come for me next time?” Yes. As most of you know by now from following our blog, I fell about 7 feet off of a ladder onto a concrete sidewalk a few weeks ago. Thankfully, I only dislocated my elbow. As painful as that full dislocation was (and it was the worst pain I have felt in my 42 years), it was a relatively minor injury considering what could have happened falling from that height. I could have hit my head, broken my neck or my back, etc., etc., etc. The seriousness of the potential injuries set in when the ER doctors put me through multiple CT scans and MRIs to check my head, my neck, and my back. My arm was not a major concern initially because it was not life-threatening, but I had certainly been in a life-threatening situation. I was more worried about not being able to play my guitar ever again. The doctors, and Kate (who found me writhing around on the sidewalk), were worried about me ever walking and possibly ever breathing again.
While squirming in my ER bed coping with the pain and waiting for the orthopedist to arrive to put my elbow back into place, I watched across the hall as another patient was unconscious after just being revived through CPR and in critical condition. He had to be life-flighted to the larger hospital at Stony Brook. As Eddie says, I was “overwhelmed by the grace by which we live our lives.”
Just over a week later I learned that one of my old soccer coaches, who had coached me for one of my club team seasons, had been severely burned after a propane tank exploded while grilling on the 4th of July. I was shocked. He had coached my brother-in-law in college and was his and my sister’s friend. After two days he died from the injuries he sustained leaving behind teenage kids and loved ones. I am still in shock, quite frankly. It is an incredible tragedy.
Not a day later I received an email from one of my closest buddies down in Charleston. He is a very healthy guy, to the point where I think he shares the benefits of his non-inflammatory diet as much as he does his faith in Jesus…and he is not shy about his faith;) He explained that he was in the ER after being in the gym (see…healthy) and having a heart episode of some kind. Turns out one of his arteries was completely blocked. He had a stent put in and is thankfully recovering.
It has driven Kate and me to prayer as we have considered what could have been in our lives and what has happened in the lives of others we know and care about. It is truly overwhelming to think about “the grace by which we live our lives with death over our shoulders.” How fast life drastically and often traumatically changes. From trimming hedges to the ER. From working out in the gym to having a stent put in. And from grilling with your family on the 4th of July to losing a father, a friend, a mentor.
Grace is the right word. None of our days are guaranteed to us. Each moment is a gift. How often do I take the day for granted? How often do I assume I’ve got another 40 or so years on this earth with my family, all of us healthy and in tact? The plain truth is I do have not that certainty. I have no idea what is going to happen next. I hurt with and for those who have suddenly lost someone they love. I repent of my arrogance and my presumption. I thank God for this moment of getting to share with you, for my girls working on art projects with their mom in the living room, for the rabbit I see darting into my over grown hedge (someone really should cut that thing).
The actual hedge and sidewalk
While we sit in the overwhelming grace that God has showered us with today, to live right now…in this moment, I want to remind us of the grace that is our constant no matter what happens…that was the constant for my coach who suddenly died last week as he was not shy about his faith either. These are the promises of God for you in Jesus Christ:
In your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. – Psalm 139:16
“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” – Isaiah 41:10
So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. – Jesus in John 16:22
And behold, I am with you always to the end of the age. – Jesus in Matthew 28:20
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