Laced Together With Grace

“When we keep our eyes on Jesus–remembering that He is the one we serve when we love others–the perspective and attitudes of our heart will be laced with the grace of Christ.” — Alyssa Bethke, from SheReadsTruth’s Colossians study

I love that phrase “laced with”. I’ve used it before in my own writing and it’s one of my favorite lovely phrases. To be laced is to be held together, held firmly. If I think of my heart’s perspective and attitudes as holding me together like a corset, informing my posture and gait, my attitude, and then I lace that heart corset with the grace of Jesus Christ, I can see His hand and love in everything.

When my soul aches, I can see Him refining me, just as a corset straightens my back and posture, and sometimes it aches, but it is being improved.

When I am tired and feel like I can’t hold up anymore, grace holds me tightly and reminds me that I can make it. I am supported. I can love, I can forgive, I can have courage, and be kind because I am constantly held up by Christ’s love and grace.

My word for 2016 is ‘grace’ and, as I am specifically working towards this, I hope it will come to be a part of me, my everyday wear, just as that corset might be, the longer I wear it. Kindness, love, compassion, empathy…my heart and actions laced together with grace.


That Sublime Moment

Author’s Note – Inspiration: This piece was inspired by a post by a friend. One sentence: “You don’t know sexy until you’ve had a man loosen your corset.” So, naturally, I had to think, how could one describe those moments?

She had done her duty all night, played the beautiful, enchanting hostess, intelligent and entrancing. Her dress was heavy with velvet and lace, glittering with jewels. As she reached her rooms, it was with a sigh threaded through with weariness. Now, in the quiet, her torso ached with a stiffness forced beyond her own natural posture, eliciting another sigh from her.

“Let me help,” came a soft, low voice, not of a lady’s maid but a body servant that she much preferred. Deft fingers undid the delicate buttons of her gown, loosening the silken sash, and allowing her free of the heavy confectionary of fashion.

Her sighs came in earnest now, her body feeling twenty pounds lighter, her limbs floating upward in relief and eliciting a chuckle from the assistant behind her. There then came the soft sound of cord rubbing against itself as he began to deconstruct the ties of her laces. His fingers were gentle as the bows fell away, and they slipped between the grommets, brushing the delicate skin beneath, to loosen the stays that held her captive. She felt freedom inch towards her step by step, moment by moment, as the bars of steel that surrounded her form gave way. Her breath came deeply, filling her lungs and blossoming the bust that the corset yet kept prisoner. His fingertips drew warm lines over the indentations left in her pinkened back.

His voice dropped pearls in her ear as the laces slipped free, the corset soon following, only to be lovingly replaced by his arms. But these were a binding ever more gentle and yet everlastingly stronger than steel and canvas and far more beautiful than embroidered silk and satin-wrapped laces.