No Room for Too

I am too.

Too old. Too practical. Too concerned.

Too worried.  Too distracted.  Too involved.

Too controlling.  Too soft. Too opinionated.

The too walks beside me, ahead of me, behind me reminding me that whatever I think I may be, he is still attached. Too.

It's the red letter on my chest when I reach for something just out of my grasp.  Too poor.  Too uneducated.  Too inexperienced.

It's the backpack, thumping a rhythm above my waistline as I climb with trembling fingers and bloody nails.  Too dumb.  Too fat.  Too slow.

It's the whisper that silences the outside voices.  Too inadequate. Too yielding.  Too easily afraid.

Too works deftly, nimbly to make you feel all at once that it is possible to be both too much and  not enough.

But I am not Too.

Not really.

I am One.

The one He loves.

And if I am the one He loves, really the One He loves, if I walk like the One He loves, breathe deeply of grace as the One He loves, cling tightly to the promises made to me as the One He loves, remember who I am because I am the One He loves

Well,

There is no room for Too at all.