Glue

When I was a kid I made projects at school with good ole Elmer's Glue.  It was thick and white and I, along with practically every other kid in the class, would overestimate how much I needed and squirt on way too much. It would squish out from the edges of my project and I would attempt to wipe the edges.  It would take hours to dry and sometimes I would have transport it home still damp with my abundant use of glue.  I would think to myself, "That's going to last forever!"  My Mom kept very few of those projects from my childhood but the ones she kept are falling apart.  The construction paper is faded and the glue has dried out so much that it no longer is doing its job of keeping things together and instead is peeling off the paper in large, thin sheets of dried up glue.  It's usefulness has passed, it no longer can hold together the project I thought would last forever.

Sometimes I feel like that glue. 

A few years ago a friend told me that I was like the glue that held our little community together.  She sincerely meant it as a compliment and at first I took it as such. But then I started to realize that it meant that unless I was the one initiating group get-together's, planning the food for them, planning the parties, making the phone calls, sending the texts, composing the emails, making sure that people stayed in the know about important life stuff with each other, and basically being a Mother Hen then our little community was going to fall apart like the years old project that the glue can't hold together anymore.

Then the glue dried up.

I entered into a season of depression. My inner glue dried up and there was nothing left to squeeze out of me.  I literally couldn't be the one to initiate and hold it all together.  And the little community didn't hold together.  The vibrant colors of our little family faded and the glue I had applied to keep us together peeled off in large sheets as we went our separate ways.  It didn't mean we didn't, or don't, love each other but what it meant was if I wasn't applying the glue then it wasn't holding together. I think this would have happened eventually even if I had more to give, but the process was sped up by the depression that took over me.

I'm not really glue even though I sometimes feel like it. 

I have a proven track record of not being able to hold things together "forever."  In fact, I can't think of one person who holds that distinction.  Oh wait, there is one. But just one. God holds it all together like super glue.  And super glue never dries out and becomes useless. Never.  The glue I produce and manufacture will always dry up and dry out, it won't hold something together "forever."  And if something, like my little community, doesn't hold together then that ultimately isn't on me, that is up to God. The timing of our season together was for him to decide and hold together, not me.  It felt like me and it may have even looked like it was me but it wasn't. He formed us and it was for purposes and reasons largely unknown to us but known to him.  Did we, as a little community, serve our purpose? I believe yes we did.  I believe we held together for as long as God needed us too in order to accomplish something only I believe he knows about.

Did you ever used to take glue and spread it in a thin layer over your hand, let it dry and then slowly peel it off?  You can see every line in your hand, fingerprints are captured, it is oddly fascinating. In order to see all the lines and capture the fingerprints it has to be spread thin. Spread so thin the glue becomes almost transparent but more opaque. I can make out the lines and the fingerprints but their clarity is blurred by the consistency of the glue.

I'm spread thin, almost translucent but more opaque. 

If I look closely I can see the lines of my life and of my heart through the glue I've spread over myself to try and hold it together.  But the lines are blurred and undefined, they run together and I wonder if my life line has been cut short. That doesn't mean what it may sound like, I'm not planning on cutting my life line short but some days the line feels shortened by life itself.  I spread the glue on to try and keep things together but when you spread it too thin it no longer has adhesive properties. I don't hold things together very well anymore.

The glue I have spread on is dry, now what? 

It may feel like life is cutting my line short but there is only one who knows the actual number of my days. And no matter how spread thin I feel he still sticks with me.  He cuts through the opaque of my heart and sees all the lines of my life and heart with startlingly clarity.  And then in his grace he shows me what he sees. Usually I don't see it until he peels the glue off that I have spread on me in the attempt to hold things together. And then what he sees I too am able to see.  But I can't see it all at once or I may implode. So he peels off the glue I have spread on little by little, in manageable pieces.  And what he shows me is freeing.

I'm not glue.  I don't have to feel responsible to hold it *all* together.
Thank goodness.