It’s been an amazing day here on this grey coast. Light streaming into every nook, sunlight creeping into every crevice, shedding much need light on life—hey, look, dust-bunnies, oops!—  My soul feels warm. So do my 80 year old joints. I always feel more hopeful when I can see the sun, it’s just a bonus that it’s warm too.

The forecast is promising 4 days of this gloriousness. The forecast is a habitual liar, tho—so, I made an effort to get outside today. A walk with IZ. An early dinner alfresco, if a bit windy. And a few photos of this ridiculously beautiful Tree Peony just on the edge of being past bloom. It never ceases to astound me with its beauty. It’s finally May. And only more goodness can come, right?

That’s two paragraphs leading into what I really want to say to you tonight. And that is being surrounded by grace is a ridiculous form of beauty—just like this peony. You can’t imagine anything being so beautiful, and yet, there it is. You’d be a fool not to stop and enjoy it. . . to receive it. And yet, I’ve found myself learning this lesson over and over and over this week.

My mailbox (the real one on my porch and the electronic one on this computer) has been flooded with a sunlight of its own this week. Letters and notes and sweet packages of tea. Grace. In a tea bag, in a hand written note, in a life-line thrown when I thought I was OK treading water. And I’ve been struggling to absorb all the beauty.

Why is it, when the Universe reaches out to help us—when our “rich uncle” fantasies come true, and people step in to offer help— why do we often refuse? “No, no, I’m OK!” comes flying out our mouths when it’s the furthest thing from being true. Is it just me who clamps her hands shut, instinctively moving toward a position of protection?  Or do you have a hard time accepting help  or a gesture of grace, too?

I’ve been giving this a great deal of thought lately. From the amount of grace that’s been flooding my life  this week, it’s clear learning to accept help with grace is a lesson the Universe wants to teach me. I don’t know why it’s such a difficult lesson for me to learn. But I’m trying.

I suspect, part of my problem is habitual. I’ve spent so much of my adulthood fending for myself. I don’t talk a great deal about my parents or sibling—because there’s nothing to say. I don’t have a relationship with either. I chose last year to finally sever the ties that have been held together by guilt and duty most of my life. Somewhere along the way I realized that I wasn’t losing anything to do so. But, an adult life (and much of a childhood) spent making my own way has  created a very independent habit. It makes me good at stretching lemons to make lemonade, and lemon cake, and lemon  bars. I suspect it makes it difficult to be friends with me. I know it makes me bad at asking for help. Accepting help when offered? Yeah, I’m going to go kicking and screaming into that venture!

And part of it is human nature. Being vulnerable is scary. We feel raw and naked and really exposed. Oh no, what if you see that I’m not perfect? I mean, I know I’m not, but I’ve worked so hard hiding my psychic cellulite, you don’t really need to see that. Right?

Right?

It’s scary to admit to ourselves that when we are vulnerable we are open to injury. Who hasn’t received a gift with more strings tied to it than it’s worth? There’s a reason I’ve jettisoned most of my past—it came with too steep of a price to keep. So, a pattern gets created based on bad experiences. Better to fend for myself than be  at the mercy of an ill will.

But whether it’s human nature or personal neurosis—the fact remains, it’s pretty damn hard for the Universe to give you anything if you’re stubbornly clinching your fists hanging onto your independence.

And wasn’t it you who was just hollerin’ like a banshee, “HEY UNIVERSE, I NEED A ROPE!” And I can just hear the Universe in reply, “Hey, YOU, accept the help I’m sending or PIPE down already.”

So, this is where I find myself this week. Flooded by grace  and cups of tea and help much needed. And I’ve been attempting to shed my independent ways and take the love being extended. Because, while I didn’t end up with loving parents or a concerned sibling, I have been blessed with a ridiculously beautiful tribe. Every last one of you makes  my life warm and bright and you more than make-up for the losses.

It’s not easy to set our fears and nakedness aside and accept the help when it comes. But it is possible. It’s even  possible to do it with a small amount of grace. It starts with opening your hands.