I am not necessary.
I like to pretend I am. I convince or deceive myself into thinking I am. But when I severely cut back my work hours due to depression and get sick with some kind of flu in the middle of one of my classes, it’s hard to think I’m necessary. It’s even painful. If I were necessary, everything would’ve fallen apart.
But it didn’t. And, after swallowing pride, I’m glad.
God is all love and acceptance, which is pure extravagance because He doesn’t have to. It’d be a lesser love if I were needed.
Maybe that’s why I like succulents so much: unnecessary, but giving joy, an extravagance as, I think, all beauty is.
And, I think, with all my mess, I may be God’s extravagance too.