Aeschylus writes –
“In our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”
Awful grace of God. How can I be described as awful?
I supposed it is this grace that allows me to survive, to become stronger, in the face of what might otherwise destroy me.
There is grace for the sins and the poor decisions that might have otherwise destroyed me.
But there is also grace in my darkest hour, in pain I wish I could not endure.
Oh, I see, this is when it is awful.
When pain that cannot forget
instead becomes wisdom, and I am not destroyed.
When I endure whether I want to or not.