Healing Through Grace and Belonging

During the gentle rain, streams of water flowed across the face of the church's saint. It felt as if the warm air was filled with fragrant hymnals and old wood polish. Sarah felt nobody noticed her, so she hid in the back and was silent. After Sunday service, only a few people could be seen in the sanctuary.

She visited this place frequently, mainly because nothing was expected from her, unlike the office, where rules and responsibilities hung over her desk like smoke. Unlike her apartment, nothing in this place echoed Mark's name.

He decided to leave by himself.

After ten years of marriage to his wife, he decided on the divorce, blunt and precise. He stated, "You have changed lately." I didn't marry this woman.

It's possible that he was correct. She looked different. While struggling to pay off her student debts and sitting in another quiet dinner, she eventually stopped laughing for him as she used to. Still, he never asked the reason behind it. He did not stay around to see how things would turn out.

May I take a seat over there?

Sarah was brought back to reality by the sound of the voice. A lady stood by the end of the row, looking old and weary with her grey-cropped hair and tired eyes.

Sarah agreed and scooted her purse out of the way.

They spent time together in peaceful solitude. The woman did not tell her name. The girl pulled a card from her jacket and ran her thumb along its sides.

Have you ever felt that you live in someone else's shoes? She wanted to know what he meant by that.

Sarah blinked. "Excuse me?"

A sign with a name on it. I'm referring to the kinds of sweatshirts you get for team-building events. Greetings, I am Trusty, Regular, or Poor in Skill.

Sarah let go of her breath. It was not really a laugh.

She replied, 'I think mine used to read, 'Hello, my name is Worthwhile.' At some stage between then and now, it was exchanged.

The woman acknowledged what I said by nodding. Want to get a trade price for it?

Sarah appeared hesitant as she stared at her.

She offered the card to him with her hand. The object was tiny and seemed insignificant, much like a prayer card. The writing looped the words: "Beloved."

Sarah swallowed. Her fingers hesitated for a moment before touching it.

What's your name called? she asked.

The woman introduced herself as Grace. It sounds like an excellent name to me.

—

Sarah kept the card in one of the pockets inside her coat. She could not explain why. She thought that signs had no meaning. However, no matter what, her fingers often rested against the spot where her angel charm was. A gentle massage.

She existed day by day, with nothing exciting happening. She was an analyst for the marketing department at a mid-sized technology firm. She participated in meetings, emailed messages, and made PowerPoint presentations on information she was indifferent to. Only the people involved knew about the divorce. Yet it is possible that should they share their feelings, they acted politely.

The only one who did not is Tom.

Tom Miller specialized in data engineering. His dog was named Skip, and he was always spilling coffee onto his shirt. Calm patience was something that troubled her about him.

He turned to Sarah and said, "Hey," as they were both waiting by the copy machine. A jazz trio will be performing at the park on the weekend. Can I come with you?

Sarah hesitated. He had invited her three times, and all three times, she said no. He smiled every time and didn't seem bothered by it.

Those words came out of her mouth.

They were seated on the grass, enjoying the trumpet's melody into the evening. Tom hands her a cup of hot cider.

Are you surprised? He said.

She admitted that she hardly expected to say yes.

Tom bowed his head without trying to push or resist. It's okay with me if you aren't pretending to be alright.

She noticed that her shoulders became tense. "I'm fine."

I didn't state that this wasn't the case. However, you do not need to be. I have nothing to do with it.

As she hung up her coat that night, her touch again fell on the card. "Beloved."

She studied that for quite a while. After doing this, she finally prayed for the first time in a long while.

—

The dreams started off mildly. She would end up in strange rooms, with no shoes on, as she felt the warmth of the floor below her. She dreamed of seeing a door to a sunny kitchen, and someone inside was singing a lullaby. In a different instance, she was reflected in the mirror, but the image was her younger self, laughing and looking perfect.

They didn't seem like typical dreams to them. They appeared to be coming from someone wanting us to join.

—

She would go to Crosswinds Church on Tuesday mornings when there was nobody else. Only she and the quiet. Occasionally, Grace would think, too. They never managed to schedule a gathering, but she was always at their events.

I'd like to know what you do, Grace.

"I listen. I pray. I have a habit of baking lots of dishes. And I constantly remind them of who they are.

Sarah moved her head to the side. "And who am I supposed to be?"

Grace smiled. You are a different person now. You have nothing to do with what hurt you. You are not what others think you are based on your failures.

Sarah turned her head to the side. My faith kept telling me that I was. It has been the case for a long time."

Now, you should start believing in something more positive.

Sarah had tears in her eyes as she brushed her teeth one evening. She was taken by surprise when a wave suddenly appeared. Not so much from grief as from understanding that everything was happening around her, but nothing was really for her.

She looked in the mirror and said to herself, "Beloved."

It was not something I was familiar with. Yet false is not what he said.

—

Months passed. She helped out by serving meals on Wednesday nights at the church. She cooked casseroles, cleaned up tables, and finally recognized the people she talked to. Mariah was sat by a young woman one night.

Mariah commented, "You're always smiling." Did you always act so organized and put together?

Sarah almost burst out laughing. "No. I once found myself broken. I still have splits. However, I can see now that it does not disqualify me.

Mariah was not sure.

Sarah pulled out the card and passed it to her. "Here."

Mariah gave it a quick look. "Beloved."

Sarah smiled. You have the same name I do.

—

Once again, Sarah stood gazing at herself in front of the mirror on the spring morning. She was getting herself ready for a brunch with Tom. They took their time getting serious. Gently. He took his time with her and never pushed her beyond her limits.

She shared information about Mark with him. On the topic of the divorce. Almost everything she did led to her doubting she was lovable.

When asked, Tom replied, "In my opinion, it certainly sounds that way."

Instead of critiquing herself, she viewed herself with thankfulness. Not perfect. But healing. Experienced enough to love widely.

No longer did she have the card with her. She had no reason to do so.

She now had a smile that reflected what she had said. She appeared to keep looking up with her head high. There was power in his silence that had nothing to do with pretending.

Grace was not at church on that particular Sunday. Or the one that is following.

Sarah approached several people, yet no one had any clue about her.

She no longer wanted to see the cause of her pain.

The reason is that angels can leave anytime.

Just long enough to remind you who you are.

Just long enough to hand you back your real name.