Dear Grace*,
It will be years before you walk on this planet Earth, but the same stardust and DNA swirls through both our bodies. You were the last thing on my mind when we began this wild year of 2020. But last Spring I remembered one special day, almost a decade ago, when you introduced yourself as my granddaughter from seven generations in the future. As if your life depended on it, you encouraged me to keep diving deeper into my work, into my loving partnership with all in this nation and on this beautiful planet.
It’s hard to know how to speak in ways you will understand a few hundred years from now. Just as when I read Biblical texts written two thousand years ago, when you read my words, things will be different. What I can say for certain is that I wrote from the truest place I knew and hope that my words will translate across time and space.
This journey has been full of Graces and grace. One Grace was a slave of our ancestors, Jacob and Margaret Tipps, seven generations before me. I don’t know the details of her life, but I discovered that living on a small plantation in the eighteen hundreds, she likely experienced brutality. Yet this Grace reached out to me and showed me that life is much bigger than I’d ever imagined. She refused to let me drift off to sleep again. You, young Grace, were right by her side.
My generation carries the responsibility to live our lives in such a way that yours is left with possibilities rather than the remains of today’s physical and spiritual toxins. I don’t want you to be born onto a planet split apart between those who have access to money and power and those who don’t. I don’t want you to struggle against a patriarchal undertow to find your own voice. I don’t want you to have to live among people who believe that the color of one’s skin is an indicator of value.
Instead, I long for you to be the person you were created to be, living in communities with others embodying their own fullness. In addition, I long for this for myself, my grandchildren, my grown children as I long for this for all of us who share this spinning planet today.
My book … this blog … my life’s work is my gift to further that end. I join many, many others around the globe now as well as our ancestors, working together to manifest that reality now.
Walking on this Earth between Grace and Grace, I am Nancy Ann Mathys Thurston. In Hebrew, both Nancy and Ann mean grace. In a world filled with grace and Grace, anything is possible. I pray that my story and your story will be intertwined with the stories of many, forming a web strong enough to beautifully support generations born and yet unborn.
Thanks be to God.
And blessings to each one of you readers on this first day of November 2020.
*This was originally the Epilogue (slightly edited) from Big Topics at Midnight
With All Saints greetings from my parents, Sue and Ed Mathys (snuggled next to me) and their great-grandchildren, Daniel and Amelia
In many ways, I am living in the world I want to live in. I know that transformation, beginning with myself and flowing out into community and our nation, is possible. I know first-hand what it takes to step outside the oppression inherent in so many of the values and habits of our dominant system and to step inside the fullness of my spirit and sight in partnership with others. I am in relationship with others who are walking, and have walked, that journey of honoring ourselves and each other enough to mutually support each other in our movement. All of this, right in the midst of 2020.
I’d spent hours in that waiting room over the previous few days, but the first time I actually heard the soft bells was when they heralded your birth. Within a few minutes after the bells rang, the nurse came out to get me. When I walked into the room where your mother had worked so valiantly in your birthing, you were snugged on your daddy’s bare chest—my firstborn holding his firstborn. Soon it was my turn to cradle you, and my heart broke open as it had years before when I first held my newborn children.
dropping it into your dump truck as you focus on important construction work! You can lead the way.
Ten days ago, a dozen neighbors gathered in our shared courtyard with a drink in hand to toast the twin Tulip Magnolia trees in their full, pale pink glory. COVID 19 was lurking outside our gate—it was the last time we will be physically close together until this period has ended. Today the blossoms are falling. They remained in place much longer than usual, despite a short snowfall and wind—a gift of beauty we all have been grateful for.
beauty of life and our profound global interconnectedness of all of creation into stark view. This has always been true, yet today our thin and fragile illusions of separation, rugged independence and control have come crashing down.
January and February were my months of travel—Boise, ID, Klamath Falls, OR, NYC and Atlanta. I didn’t get to see Alison Saar’s Harriet Tubman statue while I was in Harlem, but hearing about it has sent me to search out photos and descriptions of this remarkable sculpture. Harriet isn’t depicted as running the underground railroad, but rather becoming it. She faces south, following her divine call to return again and again to lead people from slavery to freedom. Her time called for courage—i.e. being afraid and going forward anyway. Ours does too. We aren’t to try to be like Harriet, or anyone else for that matter, but to become more fully ourselves and to do what makes our heart sing as a gift to our global family.
the calls have been keeping touch with family. Howard’s and my heartache at this time of separation from our almost two-year-old grandson, Danny, and his parents has been eased by regularly “hanging out” with him on Google Hangouts. We are exploring having a virtual living room gathering with our family in town sometime this week.
