In the evenings, before bedtime and after dessert, Chris and I do the one-bathroom dance. We pivot around each other, brushing and washing and flossing as we share the mirror. Our matching electric toothbrushes automatically turn off after two minutes. During those 120 seconds, we walk around the house, brushing away, as we lock the doors, turn off the lights and say goodnight to Newton, our Fig tree. 

Some nights, though, we don't make it all 120 seconds. Is Sonicare playing a trick on us? I always ask Chris. I promise you that was more than two minutes. 

And then one of us always says: Sometimes, you just can't make it the full two minutes. And that's OK; you gave it what you could. 

Lately, those 120 seconds have been teaching me about grace. To be ugly-truth honest with you, my posture toward the idea often looks less like "you gave it what you could" and more like this:

Grace is amazing. For someone else. Grace is the best. For those who need it. But me? I don't need grace. I can out-perform my need for it if I work hard enough. 

It's as if I think I'm above it. 

I told you it was the ugly truth.

In my heart, I know and believe that I need grace like I need air. But in my hustle? It is evident that I believe I can work hard enough to outperform grace and leave it for the other girls. 

I prefer to do things at 100 percent. If you're not going to do your best, what's the point in doing it at all? Was my motto for years. In this season of life, though, I don't have capacity to live this way. I need to be OK with giving what I can to each day, and letting it be enough.

I'm realizing lately that I want to cultivate a sense of groundedness during all seasons. One where I believe that giving what I can to each day is enough - regardless of how busy life is. I want to learn to trust that my worth is not defined by productivity and, instead, inherent in the fact that I exist. 

Day by day, I'm learning to lean on grace a little more. I'm opening my hands up to all it has to offer and letting it wash over me. Some days, it looks like leaving emails in my inbox and unfinished items on my to do list. Other days, it means brushing my teeth for only 30 seconds and - if I'm feeling wily - skipping the floss. It's learning to practice grace every day, in small ways, until, eventually it becomes inherent in the rhythm of my life.