Common Grace

“I missed it,” I thought as the first winter snow filtered around buildings and onto the cracked sidewalk. I was hurrying to class and the presence of snow surprised me. I had missed the fall entirely. From the almost imperceptible sag of dark green leaves before they begin their change to the silver snap at the edges of the air that signals the seasons shift, to the final chilly whisper of the last of them letting go. I had entirely missed it in the rush of my first term in university. I had a full course load and a part time job, plus an hour commute that made me motion sick every day. Somehow in the dark early morning wake-ups, concrete lined highway, and the cluster of downtown buildings, I had missed the fall.

I felt I had been flushed into an other-worldly place full of concrete, textbooks, and assignments, and I had started to wonder if I would ever read a book for pleasure again — or if those days were just a phase of teen years never to be repeated. But I’ve learned since then that slowness and moments of wonder don’t take three hours at a time. A ten minute walk is all it takes to slow myself down and wake me up to God.

Sometimes the solution to anxiety and discouragement is far less spiritual and far more normal than we think. I am quick to assume that if I am feeling spiritually dry, then I need a spiritual answer - and maybe I do. But I tend to forget the basics of living in a human body - good food, plenty of water (tea!), and the slowness needed to actually notice my world. God has given the rain to the “evil and the good” as common grace, but I often skip the common and want the sublime.

"He makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust" (Matthew 5:45).

After my third child was born with all her health problems, I took to running to clear my head and deal with the stress of watching my baby miss milestone after milestone. And what I found, after years of indoor things - university degrees and having babies - was common grace outdoors. Fresh air. Sunshine. Slowly shifting seasons. Knowing and watching a colorful weed spread itself across one crack in the sidewalk, then retreat in the fall as frost withered it. My body gradually learned the feel and scent of the coming spring and the settled heat of summer and the snap in the air that heralded fall. I grew acquainted with the many shades of green one tree moves through every summer.

I thought I was training for a 5k, but even after the race I kept going out, craving the common grace for that particular day. I had found that simple things like being outside had a huge effect on my mental health. Something I had sensed but didn’t know all through my university years and early motherhood.

Here in Toronto, the winter is so cold and snowy and dark, I started running indoors. Round and round on a track I went, with elderly men telling me over and over again I didn’t need to run - walking is fine. But in swapping my outdoor time for indoor for just three weeks, I gradually lost track of the season. The shift from fall to deep winter was lost on me and I started to wilt like my peace lily has in my dining room. Discouragement, writer’s block, and stagnation soon followed. Granted, there is a lot going on. Settling into a new city is not easy. But I lost track of one of the “basics”.

Until I put my little-used heavy boots on, finally used a pair of gloves and got back outside. So now, if at all possible, even if running is simply not, I’m out breathing icy air and feeling the sun on two inches of my face. Winter is hard, but there is still common grace to be found north of Florida, I promise. The sparkle of snow, the hush of the landscape, the clean landscape of white. All of it is there for the seeing.

I had forgotten that simple things like fresh air and sunshine help me grieve through homesickness. That the crunch of snow on the white evening while I talk with my friend on a walk makes the world spin slower for me. That the miles seem less to my sister when I’m breathing real air. That snowflakes are truly stunning and standing in my driveway observing for a few minutes can make my soul alive to wonder on a tiny scale. Worship follows. It has to for everyone that knows him. Because every sparkle, every hush speaks of him in whispers. This sleepy season will wake with spring in a few weeks, but let’s be out there listening for the good of our souls.

Sometimes God’s grace is in miracles and life changing moments. But usually, it's just usual. Everyday moments we tend to miss. Don’t forget His common grace. It’s there for the taking, our daily sample of God's goodness, free for all, especially His own.