Lost and found

When I was little, I wanted to save the world.  Well, not the whole world.  Just every pup and kitt no one else wanted.  The thought of anything or anyone being unloved...unwanted...was enough to break my child-sized heart.

I'm not so little anymore.  I've learned I can't save the world.  No matter how much I want to.  Eventually, I'm not enough.  It hurts.  To want to but not be able to.  To try and fall short.

I tell my boyfriend he can do anything.  I sponsor kids in Africa.  I listen to my coworkers.  I help wherever I can.  Still he struggles - famine spreads - tensions rise. 

My help is like raindrops in the desert.  We need a downpour.

I wonder if Jesus felt that.  The emptiness of "not enough" when he wrapped his heart in human skin.

Those who came to him, he healed.  He changed the molecular structure and behavior of his own creation to make wine for a wedding and food for hungry followers. 

He walked with friends in crowded streets and ate with them at dinner parties.  When he listened, I wonder if he heard the cry of every broken heart around the world.

If anyone could save us all.  Surely it was he.

But he only "saved" for three years.  And then he left.  He said he had to leave so an invisible other could come.  An other unlimited by the boundaries of human skin.  An other who would help him save everyone.

And he trusted us to tell.  And to "do" while telling.  To let the invisible other "do" through our hands.  Through our feet.

I still don't understand.  I still don't feel "enough".

But I have a feeling our collective downpour is his way to save the world.