A word has been turning over in my mind since Thanksgiving. It appeared as I was wrestling the 18 pound turkey lying naked in my sink. It was my very first go-round with a holiday bird, and the girl was heavy. The turkey, of course.
So, anyway. The word.
I have so much. And I'm not talking about stuff, although I have a lot of that too. I purge on a regular basis and things in my house seem to multiply. Need a pen? A coffee mug? A vase? A Lego? I have plenty to pass around.
Before we gathered to say the blessing and eat the (delicious! go me!) turkey, we wrote what we were thankful for on paper leaves and hung them to the Thanksgiving tree. Even though I got the idea from Pinterest, my homemade tree was nothing fancy. I'd sent the boys on a mission to find some branches in the yard, and I'd refused to let them steal them back and use them as light sabers.
Then, Thanksgiving rolled into Christmastime, and an elf flew in from the North Pole and landed on it. I took it as a sign that the tree needed to stay until the end of year, so I hung ornaments on it.
Today, the decorations are boxed and the moss-covered branches are gone. The space feels empty. I miss the open proclamation of the goodness in my life.
Abundance. And yet, right now, here, to you, I'm hesitant to say I have it. That I want it. That I need it.
I wonder if it's because I mistake abundance for greed. So I stuff it down, refusing to let it get too big for its britches.
Or maybe, I'm scared. The more I have, the more there is to lose. The stakes are higher. Living fully and loving with all I've got is a risk.
Or perhaps, I worry that I can't handle it. That if I give abundance room to grow I won't be able to hold it all with my tiny human hands. So I reduce it to something I can manage.
Self-sabotage disguised as good intentions.
The truth is, I don't have a clue how to hold it all. Dump all that goodness in my lap and I'll most certainly drop it. I'll be on my best behavior, but eventually I'll mess it up.
But I wonder if abundance comes in spite of character flaws. Maybe, an abundant life isn't dependent on my ability to hold it, to manage it or control it. Perhaps, I simply need to open my eyes, my mind, my heart and my arms and let it flow. Let it fill me up and cover me. Trust it and receive it.
It still feels too big. But I'll start by being bold enough to admit it.
I have it.
I want it.
I need it.
Now. Can I live like I believe it?