I suppose that's a good thing. It describes things like our yearly fig harvest, which, although it arrived two months later than last year, was definitely no less abundant...
And there was certainly an abundance of family around, on the weekend we decided to make a day of it and finally get to canning and jamming. That's a good thing too, I suppose.
The thing with abundance is the overflow. The 'I have so much my cup is runneth-ing over and now it's puddling somewhere and drip drip dripping onto the nice carpet'. And heaven forbid you appear ungrateful for having so much. But that's the catch with abundance. The whole point of something being abundant is that it is more than you need. I always want more than I need. I think I can have it all and maybe even a bit more, with no consequences. But Birnam Wood marches forth on my Dunsinane, and I find myself wishing back that I only had just enough to be content, instead of the responsibility of abundance.
The Bible says (here comes the horrific paraphrasing) that to those who have a lot, so much more will be asked of them. I always thought that just referred to taxes, or specifically church tithes. Thankfully I was poor enough the last time I went to church, that I could just pass the little red velvet bag along like a dieter refusing the birthday cake. "Not today thanks, so poor! I'm watching my bank balance. You go ahead though. Enjoy!"
Then the figs came. And abundance. And I realized how much I had. And how much was going to be asked of me. And I would never be able to keep up. No matter how many times I went out to fill the bowl, there were still more waiting to be harvested, and if I didn't get to them all they would drop to the ground and spoil. The bowls lined up on the countertop, and even after I thought I had emptied every single bowl, I opened the fridge to find one hiding in the crisper drawer. An entire shelf in our kitchen is now stocked with jars of fig jam. It is overwhelming and a ripe, purple metaphor of my whole life. I was given much. I asked for a bit more. Abundantly my cup spilled over, and yet all I could do was complain that my teacup was too dinky. I became obsessed with the spillage and the mess, and then I wallowed in guilt over the wastage. Somewhere along the way, my blessing became my curse and then my burden. So much...so much...I couldn't possibly make use of it all. Make good of it all.
But look, it's just figs. Trying to eat every last one of them would be like trying to count raindrops. Do I ruin the experience of eating one perfectly sun ripened fig, because I am too busy thinking of the fifty that fell to the ground? I could...but then I just lost fifty-one.
I have an abundant life. And my cup runneth over. I just need to get better at sipping from the saucer. I'm sure there's an uplifting saying too about how when life gives you figs, make jam or something. But I'll just work on the saucer part now, 'cause I already made the jam. Hee hee.