viewing life through a piece of lace

Between our entry way and the living room hangs a lace curtain (you can see a wisp of it in daylight here). I took this picture a few evenings ago...not necessarily wanting a picture of our living room, but rather the impression of a living room. Actually...maybe I didn't even think about the subject/inspiration that much! Something called to me in the moment, and the scene actually offered something that surpassed it.

I'm fairly certain the living room wasn't in a beatific state that evening. Dusty. Slightly (or probably much more...) disheveled. In need of vacuuming at every least. But, here, it looks rather magical with the imprint of lace adorning every item...couches, lamp, a hint of a painting over a mantle, even the empty air space as well.

What if I could mystically view the entire world through a piece of lace? Nothing practical or fashionable as one of those 1940's hats with a band of netting hanging over my eyes! Certainly something richer and deeper than painting a Pollyanna 'whatever' view of life.

Possibly contained in the above view is a metaphor I've been searching for...something to 'lay on top of' life...rather like a 'skin' that slips onto a blogsite or a cursor: Lace as a lens of gratitude for all of life.

Here, allow me to make a quick distinction between gratitude and being thankful. The latter would include worthy activities such as...conjuring up a list of blessings we should be thankful for...or murmuring 'thank goodness' when something goes well. Perhaps I see thankfulness as often expressed in 'doing', even if it's just turning our minds toward a worthy awareness.

Is gratitude more of an attitude? A posture? Awareness incarnate? The grace contained therein is the sign of the outward stance. Grace. Something to live into, be inside of. I love how G.K.Chesterton puts it:

You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, and swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing, and grace before I dip the pen in ink.

What he doesn't say is that part of being grateful is expecting it to go well. It's more basic, simple than that. And, therefore -- constantly appropriate, in good or ill.

I'm considering 'humming' a simple, lacy 'grace' as a constant accompaniment to my day. As basic as breathing.