laser beams and fireworks

I go through these blasted phases where I lament a lack of love, where I feel like I'm not particularly a God-lover because I'm not feeling particularly like a people-lover. The moments typically come when I'm spending lots of time with friends whose very essence is an oozing love for others. Maybe you know the type--they say hey to everyone they pass, if they can remember someone's name then they consider that person a good friend, and they'd willingly miss a meal or go without sleep for years (or at least a night) before telling someone "I'm sorry; I can't."

I'm not like that.

"No" is not the hardest word for me to say, and I rarely forget to care for myself. What with all the harsh scriptures about "dying to self and "laying down one's life for a friend," you can see how I put it all together and feel like a schmuck. How do my amazing, self-sacrificing friends do it, I wonder?

I've watched them carefully, and here's my conclusion: They are fireworks. They explode big. They bless many. They are vibrant lights. Their circles of influence are huge.

I, on the other hand, get overwhelmed by the masses. I may appear to love only a few, but I really love them deeply. The circle is small, but how could it be much bigger when I want to truly know them and allow them to truly know me? It's more of a laser beam. . .and if you're in the line, the love is intense, and it's not going to end any time soon.

Looking at it from this perspective has helped me realize I'm not as unloving as I thought. I no longer scold myself, because I've even seen some of my fireworks friends learn how to be a bit more focused. And I've learned from them, too, and am beginning to find ways to reach out a bit further.