with grace

It’s that feeling - when you’re standing in line to get your blood drawn. No one wants to be there. You don’t. By the tone of the nurse, she doesn’t. But you’re both there because you need to be in that moment. I lay down. I always do, because if I don’t I will pass out. I’ve had nurses pick me up off the floor more than once. So I lay down- a small token I give myself to make it easier.

“You’ll feel a little pinch” she says. And I do, and she tells me after a few seconds to release my hand. And I do. And I breathe.

And before I know it, she’s taping a cotton swab onto my skin, and I lay for a few more seconds before heading out the door. Before heading onto my next errand. Grocery shopping. More enjoyable than blood drawing.

Right now, I find myself in a stage of life that is very much akin to getting one’s blood drawn. I find myself in a vulnerable space where I appear to not have any say in any outcome. As if I am laying down on a bed to make it a bit more comfortable, to avoid smashing my head or falling onto the floor. The journal, the pen, the candles are the bed. And I am waiting for her to remove the needle. And I breathe.

I find in this space, there’s not much one can do. But there is a way to get through, and every time I ask myself - I hear “with grace”.

With grace. With reverence to the self, and reverence to one’s process. Because you didn’t exactly choose this, but the process still must occur. With grace, you peel off of a situation and into another one. With grace, you treat others how you wish to be treated, and if they treat you poorly, you notice. And you move on.

With grace, you create something beautiful for yourself, for your heart, for your growth. And you allow the rest to fall away from you- as it will, as it is.

So, I allow the blood to flow - out of me, and into a tube. And I allow this all to pass.