too much

It has been said that truth is stranger than fiction.  I don’t know about “stranger,” but in my own life of late, truth has certainly been more intense than fiction could ever be.  So much so that I have had a hard time caring about time to read fiction.  When I have what has been precious little free time, I find that what I long to do most is document the reality that life has been.

Today is no exception.  I found myself weeping as I gazed at the face that I wept to leave over 3 years ago . . . not really expecting to ever see again.  This constant companion I loved for that year, as we worked with the children together, should have been lost to me for this life at least.  But as it happens, I have made my way back to this old workplace—against all odds.  And she, who left this place to bear and raise a child, has returned—against all odds.  So here we are, unexpectedly reunited: two people with such vastly different upbringings, experiences, and aspirations.  Yet two people who know what it is to be fast and true friends . . . against all odds.

Too much.  Sometimes life is, or feels to me, just too much.  Too much for one heart to hold.  Too much love.  Too much goodness.  Too much life.  And in moments like this I find it so very comforting to hold to the assurance that one who is bigger and greater than I is big enough, and great enough, to bear all the much-ness of life.  Thanks be to God that it is not too much for Him . . .