everybody's fine

Sometimes I forget God is God. On the throne. Not my buddy or my confidante or even just the lover of my soul. Almighty God. The One responsible for everything.

The One responsible. For everyone.

I like to think I'm a bit of a caregiver. I like to take good care of people. I enjoy being the kind of person who helps. Who anticipates what might be needed. And, before it's even asked - done. It's a family trait. A great caregiver can do this without you even seeing that they've taken care of you. They become invisible. Amenities and comforts just *poof*, appear out of nowhere.

My Mother has always been this way. She never had to say, "here". Things were always just there. There were no midnight runs to the pharmacy in our home; we were always stocked with the necessities. Never waited for clean linens. Never noticed dirt in my home; it was gone before given the chance to be fruitful and multiply. She has always taken incredible care of us. I like to think I learned a little from her - though at times my caregiving tends to be more "personal" than "practical" (midnight runs to wal-mart and beyond aren't a stranger to my life).

The plight of the caregiver? Thinking if they don't give, someone will lack. If they don't care, who will? We run ourselves ragged thinking, "They need this..." or "I have to do this," and "what will happen if I don't?". Pride gets the best of me sometimes. I think that I can (and should) take excellent care of every person in my life. That I'm somehow responsible for their well-being and happiness. I create this picture where everyone needs me and I have value in my world because I can provide for people a comfort and ease that they need. Dangerous territory, that is.

There's a part in the movie Bruce Almighty where Jim Carrey, who is assuming the responsibilities of God (yes, Yahweh, God, Jehovah), is responding to hundreds of "prayers" (emails) and doling out answers and blessings. Until he can't. Until it's overwhelming. Until he realizes he's barely a decent human...let alone a suitable "God".

Feels good to be needed, doesn't it? Feels good to "come through" for someone. Until I can't. Until I reach my limit. And then, there are a bunch of people I've set up to "need" me who feel failed, disappointed. Or thankful that I've realized I don't have the capacity to meet their needs anyway and they can stop stroking my ego which is begging for affirmation.

It feels horrible in a really holy, beautiful way to look around and realize, "everybody's fine".

The race comes to a hault; I look around to spot Jesus' eyes. He is calmly reclined, amused by my dance, and waiting to take care of me in all the ways I keep telling everyone, "I'm fine".

I've kept Him waiting long enough...