Graces in the In-Between

When my husband went missing, I was terrified. I searched the streets he’d wandered before, willing myself not to cry. He was only gone for an hour but it felt like forever. I didn’t keep him safe that day… but the community did.

And then, something remarkable happened.

In the hours and days that followed, grace arrived quietly, again and again.

Friends and strangers rallied. Messages came through — kind, thoughtful, immediate.

Soup was delivered by a neighbour we didn’t even know. Flowers arrived, unannounced. A friend from afar left a bag of fruits on the front step, tucked gently beside the “Welcome” mat. Brunch was brought over by friends — shared over stories, with extras that lasted us for days.

And then there were the offers. People I didn’t even know reached out — offering to sit with him so I could take a breather. Some just said, “If you ever want to chat, I’m here.” A few left their mobile numbers, saying, “If you ever need help, please call.”

And then my neighbour — always steady — quietly built a ramp at our front door. No fanfare. Just love, measured in timber and care.

_{A ramp built quietly by Paul, our neighbour — a small slope, a lighter step, a path made easier.}

Now when I open the door, I see it: a path made easier, a way made safer, a gesture that carries more than its weight

That ramp has become a symbol to me — not just of practicality, but of what happens when people decide to show up. To see you.
To hold what you’re holding, even if only for a moment.
To make the ground a little less steep.

His condition will only progress. There is no reversing the journey we’re on. But in the in-between — the spaces between heartbreak and resolve — these moments of kindness come.

They are the graces that find me.

Not dramatic. Not loud. But thoughtful. Precise. Timely.
The kind of grace that says , “You are not alone.”

To everyone who reached out, dropped off, built, called, texted, or simply stood beside us — thank you. You were grace in the shape of people.

And may little graces find you, too, in all the in-between moments that life quietly asks us to endure.