Finding Grace | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Finding Grace | Previous Challenge Entry
By Amy Gaudette
07/23/15
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Finding Grace

I stared at the sunrise before me. Its beauty starkly contrasted by the ugliness I

had harbored for years inside. The morning songs of the birds echoed through the empty chambers of my heart.

I had been at the lake for four days now, four painful days, and had nothing to show for it. It had taken a lot of talking to convince Rick to let me come here on a little holiday alone. This was her home, and he was worried it would only make things worse. I knew I had to go. I had to face something very painful in my past, and this was the only way I could think of to find the grace I so desperately needed to move on.

Two months ago today, my world had been rocked. I had found out that the mother I had never known had recently died. She'd not only lived in the same town as me, but had known who I was. On top of all that, she had left me this old camp on the lake.

All those years of questions as to who my birth mother was, and why she had given me away, was now buried in the earth with her. Rick could see the toll it was taking on me. I knew he felt at a loss as to what to say or what to do.

A couple of weeks ago as I lay silently crying on my bed at night, a thought occurred to me that maybe I should go out to her cabin. I could spend some time praying, and it would be as close as I would get to being with my mother. I had a weeks vacation coming, and couldn't get the idea out of my head. Rick agreed as long as I took Bellow with me. He was our beloved aged hound dog, who was as good a friend as any.

So, there I was. Watching the last sunrise I would see from this rickety old porch for a while. I had not found the peace and grace I longed for. I still restlessly wanted answers, but closure seemed eternally elusive to me. How do I let go, Lord?
I watched Bellow pull himself slowly out of his morning swim. He lumbered up the failing porch steps, water pouring off of his back, and headed inside to breakfast.

“Whoa, Bellow, not in there all wet!” In he went, shaking this way and that, water flying everywhere. His backside hit a small lamp stand and over it went with a theatrical crash. The glass bottom to the lamp smashed into hundreds of pieces, and flew across the floor.

“Oh, Bellow,” I sighed.

There in the mess, was a small leather bound book, no bigger then three inches across. I picked it up and dusted the cover off. It must have been tucked underneath the lamp. I opened it up and an old photo fell out. It was a picture of a young girl holding a baby to her face. The girl's eyes were red from the tears streaming down.

I turned the photo over. The date was four days after I had been born. On it had been written, My beloved daughter, I will never forget you.

I took a deep breath; It was my birth mother. I sank to the floor in the midst of all the broken pieces. Mother

I grabbed the book and opened the cover.
This diary belongs to Grace Hunter.
There was only one entry.
Four days ago, I defied everyone and gave birth to a beautiful little girl. My parents wanted me to end the pregnancy, but I refused. I may not be able to keep her, but for as long as I live I will never forget her.
The paper was grayed with old tear stains, and I added new ones. Grace, my mother, was just a girl. I sobbed and held the picture near my heart.
She loved me. She really did love me as best she could.
Just then the outside steps creaked. Rick had come and I had not even heard him drive up.
He saw me sitting on the floor and ran to me.
“Abbie, are you O.K.?” His face registered deep concern.
“Yes. Oh, Rick. . . I found Grace. I found grace in more ways then I had ever thought possible.”

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