"[I]n America stadium shows are reserved seating. And you don't necessarily get the most enthusiastic people up the front. You get the people who reserved those seats."
Like A Song: Grace
April 09, 2014
[Ed. note: This is the 84th in a series of personal essays by the @U2 staff about songs and/or albums that have had great meaning or impact in our lives.]
Grace, she's got the walk
I’ve always been ungraceful.
Ballet lessons? After clomping around a dance floor at age 5, I abandoned attempts to be a swan-abee and took up piano instead.
High heels? I still wobble when I walk in them.
But Grace carries me.
Grace, it's the name for a girl
Just like U2 in the song “Grace,” I’ve always pictured Grace as a girl, maybe because Grace is such a beautiful thing. Like a mom to all, she’s soft, but solid. Gentle, but strong. Loving … always loving, no matter what.
To Grace, we — all of us in the whole world — are always good.
Grace, she takes the blame
I’ve been ashamed of lots of things I’ve said or not said, deeds I’ve done or haven’t done, relationships I’ve neglected, people I’ve hurt, people I’ve ignored. All the bottles of bleach or Oxi-Clean in the world aren’t enough for my stains.
But Grace is enough.
She travels outside of karma, karma
“An eye for an eye,” they say. “It all comes back to you.”
But Grace comes to me instead.
It makes no sense, and that’s what’s so amazing about Grace. Some people say Grace comes from God. But you don’t have to believe in God to believe in Grace. She’s got endless, all-encompassing arms, and a heart full of mercy, not judgment.
Grace makes beauty
I used to think that Grace was this really gorgeous lady in gossamer white robes, with a voice like the sweetest violin melody you’ve ever heard, and the long legs of a ballet dancer.
But now, I think Grace is wobbling around on heels. And I hear her voice in the melodies of a guy who wears black and used to dress up like a devil.
(c) @U2/Lindell, 2014