Blessings can bring tears. Lots of tears. Counting my blessings creates this strange brew of sorrow and relief. I am not adrift as I once thought. Up in space, alone. I have an embarrassment of riches where friends are concerned. Some of the most deep, beautiful, funny, get-their-hands-dirty, love-you-at-your-worst, and help-you-be-your-best people are my friends. Our friends. I keep peeking around the corner to see when they’ll change their minds, but they’re still around. Crazy peeps. Ground control who brought me home.
With a quiet layover in NASA-ville (look ma, no kids), I got to reflect on all these gifts. That’s what they are. Gifts. Marveling at the goodness of God while savoring these precious relationships.
Too much. Too much.
But like an iron from the fire, it stabs that place in my gut where I know I have failed at being that friend. Like, really failed. And sometimes I cry on airplanes over this. Sorry seat-mates, I'm a crier now. Choosing to accept the treasures before me seems like pouring salt in wounds. Because I’ve been crummy. I should be Major Tom. Cut off. No way home.
How can I be encapsulated by all this beauty? Here is the over-pouring of God’s love. I have done nothing to earn it. Not even a speck. None of it. In fact, well....Maybe I’d still like to make payments on this debt. As if I could. It only grows.
Seriously, though, can I? That would make me more comfortable, Lord.
Here are my tears of thankfulness. My tears of love received.
What can I do, God, but take these treasures and treat them with care? And give out of the abundance. And learn from my failings. And follow your precepts in learning to be that friend.
God bless my ground control.
A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity. Proverbs 17:17
David Bowie Space Oddity