Sunday, January 30, 2011

Handling this Life

      I just hate it when people say that God never gives us more than we can handle.  Most often, the people who tend to say that to me are usually all dressed up, driving a fine car, and headed to a fabulous restaurant with other high-functioning adults.   I mean, "What do they know about how much is too much?"  I heard a quote today that Mother Teresa had purportedly said.  "I know God won't give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much."  Oh, Lord, I've been busted by Mother Teresa of all people.  Damn!  But I love the second sentence of her quote ----I wish he didn't trust me so much.  Amen to that.... is what I'm thinking.  What on earth have I done to deserve this trust?  I am falling down on the job.  Doesn't he see?
       Non sequitur alert...I watch the news and really wonder how the people in Haiti handle their lives.  They have the same basic needs that you and I have, and yet hundreds of thousands of them are living under tarps on streets, with no running water, no electricity, no nothing.  I/We see those images and go right back to our iPods or online banking or to thawing the lamb chops for dinner.  I would be so curious to know the numbers of handicapped people living amongst them.  I really don't think I could do it.  I'm too spoiled. I'm too something. 
     Maybe it's because I'm 57 and in transition with my life goals; maybe it's because I'm re-evaluating what life is all about; maybe it's because I live in my own sort of sub-culture; maybe it's because I long for conversations and interactions to have meaning and purpose......maybe I just want too much. Heck yeah, I'm intense.   A friend, frustrated with my need for "depth" finally lost it with me yesterday.  "Why do you always think everything has to mean something or teach a lesson or have a moral?"  Exasperated was she----with me.  Lighten up was the message.  Oooooo, that is so hard for me. 
      I know that others of you reading this have a similar longing/craving to soak the life sponge of all of its meaning.  My little fellow, Taylor, is my constant reminder that we are here for bigger purposes than to settle for Dancing with the Stars, over-caring if our boobs sag (just a little), obsessing about if we've made enough, done enough,  been enough.  Are you following me?  Are you with me?
 I want to get this life right whatever that means. 
 Maybe I'm trying too hard. 
 I think I am trying too hard.
Where is Mother Teresa when I need her?   What made her not care about using lip gloss?
How do we get to that place?
Where's the balance?
Lip inner peace. 
Is that more than we can handle?