June 4, 2012
Too much. I remember writing once, years ago, that life was just too much. And again, I am struck by the intensity of the feeling that my current reality is just too much for one heart to hold.
Days fly by with all the ups and downs that a day with children inherently holds. Never mind one that also happens to be in a war-torn land where, far too often, darkness reigns. But combined with that stark yet striking truth is the fact that my community has undergone a series of emotional upheavals. People enter and leave life regularly enough. And there was a time in my life when I think it did not phase me that much. I am good at leaving. It’s an unfortunate gift, due to the manner in which I grew up as well as my roaming patterns in adulthood. But suddenly I am the one staying–others are leaving me.
This is, I think, what has made me so inordinately emotional lately. Today I cried when I received an email pr. request for friends of people I worked with in Zambia. A couple died in a place crash yesterday, leaving 2 little girls behind. Too close to home, I reasoned, as I sniffled behind my computer screen. Then I cried when a visiting mom of a housemate showed yet another way in which she is lavishing us all with her generosity and love . . . mothering all in my house, and on the compound. Yes, tears are flowing these days, and I know it’s not just me.
But I don’t mind the tears. I never have. In fact, tears are a comforting thing to me. They remind me of all that is true and real, and they soften a heart that too easily grows hardened by anxiety and weariness. Several months ago I started writing about my grief over eyes that were dry when they should have been weeping. I felt cold and distant, and worried that something was wrong with my heart . . .
Cry me a river. A million-mile river. So I can sail far, so far away from here . . .
Well the river is flowing. Lord have mercy. Let the tears keep flowing as I make the most of these last few weeks, days, and hours with people who have grown so dear to me. Let me relish the moments spent in awe of amazing teachers, administrators, principals . . . friends. Let me see people, not productivity. Let me love.