Drop In the Bucket

Who am I, that You are mindful of me?

Who am I, that You care for me?

Who am I, that You allow my self-absorbed nonsense?

Day upon day upon day.

I am nothing, blank, zero.

And yet, You love me despite my faults.

***

I am feeling it today, the melancholy that visits me from time to time, even though my life is pretty fantastic.  I'm feeling silly, impetuous, and highly imperfect.  I'm thinking of these books I'm writing and chiding myself for considering people will ever give a flying Fig Newton what rattles around in my brain.  I fail as a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, an aunt, a mother, a wife, and as a friend more often than I don't.  I probably need chocolate and a sappy chick flick.

Correction:  I need chocolate and a sappy chick flick.

The realization is that I am a drop in the bucket, a humming that is less than a disturbance in the symphony of life.  Insignificant.  No one cares--I'm not even sure if I care.  God cares, and it shouldn't matter beyond that.  I'll confess, it matters a little beyond that, but it shouldn't.

I'm sorry if I'm less than you expect.  I'm resigning myself to it, this less-ness.  For today, at least.