We own three dogs. Or, more truthfully, three dogs own us. So the family comprises of six members, all of whom are dying of heat here in LA at the moment. The dogs have to endure it at home, but the children and I are fleeing from one air-conditioned sanctuary to the next.
Unfortunately this morning, while we were in the air-conditioned glory of the donut shop, I remembered that I had forgotten a voiceover audition. I raced back to the house, shoved roughly past the ecstatic welcome of the dogs and dove into my bedroom closet/ high tech soundbooth. I recorded with less than 4 minutes to go.
As you might imagine, it was not the best I could have done. And it was just so blooming hot.
I stomped into the kitchen grumping about the heat. I unloaded the dishwasher while chastising myself for squandering an opportunity. As I wiped my forehead with the front of my t-shirt, the Holy Spirit whispered to me, “What about grace, Josie?”
“Well?” I bit my lip, “What about it?”
At that moment, Guy (9) walked into the kitchen.
“What do you think about when you think about grace, G?” I asked.
Without hesitation he picked up one of our dogs: “I think of Bobo, Mom.”
I was going to say, “No, seriously, G…” but I was looking at Bobo’s face. Unquestioning love, unquestioning forgiveness for shoving him away on my arrival, unquestioning grace.
“You know what, Guy? You’re right.” I thought about Wendy Francisco’s marvellous poem:
I just forgot the audition. That was all. It was a mistake and I was sorry.
The dogs show me grace. God shows me grace. I am not prepared to show myself grace.
So I need to get over myself.