I exit the grocery store and make my way to my car. I open the door and throw my bags on the floor. I slide into the seat. I sit for a moment while I wait for my youngest son, Danny to make his way back to the car.

A woman walks on the sidewalk in front of me.

It is a slow walk. She has no movement of her entire left side. Still she trudges forward while she holds a cane and pushes a shopping cart.

She finally makes her way to her intended destination. She slides the shopping cart to the side and opens the door of the nail salon. Once open, she props the door with her right foot as she struggles to back the cart up and then push it forward through the door.

I take in her effort. I think how each morning just getting up and getting dressed and making breakfast must be enough to wear her out. Still, she soldiers on.

In the moment, I am embarrassed that I have found myself in this emotional struggle that I don’t seem to be able to soldier through at times. Divorce has a beginning and an end. For this woman there is no beginning or end to her life long battle to do daily tasks that the rest of us do effortlessly.

The swing of a door, the push of a cart, the grab of a bag, or the stride in our walk.

I feel humble in this moment.

That I have to soldier through this emotional pain with grace.

The same kind of grace that makes a woman get out of bed every morning knowing that each task is anything but easy in her day.