About a year ago, I heard the term “grace note” for the first time, and I was enchanted. My homespun definition of grace note sprouted up immediately: an after-the-fact recognition or insight that brings peace. Looking back and understanding that being denied a certain job or that suffering a breakup was in your best interest because your career subsequently took an interesting turn or a better partner came your way. Seeing that a house you bid on and lost was a blessing because you eventually bought a house that is lighter, brighter, and prettier.
I soon learned that grace note is actually a musical term—a musical note added as an embellishment. My quaint understanding of grace note is not accurate, but it’s not all wrong either. Life’s narrative contains all sorts of markings that denote joy, loss, accomplishment, or grief. Grace notes dot our lives, shining light on once-perplexing events. These markings of clarity are gifts.
Of course, I know that some trying experiences remain opaque and incomprehensible. This is the nature of life and makes grace notes all the more cherished. Time is a remedy, but it does not always bring understanding. Odilon Redon’s Cinq papillons (Five Butterflies) evokes the flitting, unexpected beauty brought on by grace notes. Some of Redon’s strokes seem partial or unfinished, reminding me of life’s rough-hewn endings. These creatures are bold yet wavering. And so are we. As we grieve, forgive, and move forward with purpose, touches of grace grant lightness and serenity.