May 1989: our honeymoon. Driving through San Francisco we decide to walk the wharf. The day is bright and sunny, warm for the city by the bay. “Let’s get you a wedding present,” says Scott, knowing picking out a gift together will delight me.
At Pier 39, we pop into a music box store. There it is. The perfect wedding gift from a husband to his bride: a white, wooden, laminated music box made in Italy. “Select your song for the box,” says the man behind the counter.
“Do you have The Rose I ask. Our wedding song.
“Nope, don’t have that one.” The man’s European accent is strong.
“I smile at Scott. “Okay, how about Stand by Me?” The first dance at our reception.
“Don’t have that one, either,” the man replies.
Now I’m disappointed. Still, I grin at my husband who so wants to make me happy on our honeymoon. “All right, Amazing Grace?” It’s quaint and old-fashioned, but this song never fails to tug at my heartstrings.
“Done!” The man’s exuberant response startles me. He grabs the white box and disappears behind a wall beyond the counter. The sound of seagulls blows into the store as two German tourists slip in the front door. Soon the man returns, placing the delicate box before me. In a sweeping gesture he opens the lid and the intricate workings whirl into play. Amazing Grace fills the store. The Germans pause in their browsing. Stand there reverently the way Scott and I do until the music ends.
Ten years later on an island in Maine a gray-bearded man in a kilt plays Amazing Grace on the bagpipes. The tune strings hot tears down my cheeks. Sitting beside Scott at his grandparents’ church on vacation, we’ve grown miles apart in our marriage. Hearing Amazing Grace, I recall the day we picked out the music box full of hope and each other. Now the lean years of love are upon us and the wolf of “what if ” is at the door. Thoughts of divorce plague me. An army pilot now, Scott is rarely home. I am a lonely wife wearily raising three small children. Stepping over the church threshold in Maine, sun reflecting off the sea blinds me. God is near.
A year after Maine, Christ becomes my Savior. In a few more years Scott is saved, too. Our marriage flourishes and four more sons fill our home. After more than two decades of marriage, I review God’s goodness to us: such Amazing Grace.

For it is grace that draws the sinner
to a place called Calvary
The blooded-stained cross
that calls the lost
and bids the blind to see.
May you find the Savior waiting
when you weary of this world
may his voice you hear
as he draws you near
beckoning, “Come to me.”
In his hands you will know healing
at his touch you will find strength
your life will be new
He’s steady and true
this God of Amazing Grace.