"Mister God is different from us because He can finish things, and we can't. I can't finish loving you because I shall be dead millions of years before I can finish, but Mister God can finish loving you, and so it's not the same kind of love, is it?"
Sometimes I sit and listen to the sounds of my house, I look around at the beautiful faces that surround me, rest my head on Mango's shoulder, close my eyes, breathe the familiar smells of home, and I know I can never, ever finish loving these people. Nothing I can say or do or even think or write is enough. Not even music and pictures can say what I cannot say. Long hours of late night conversation, fresh enchiladas, head massages, notes hiding in Mango's suitcase, Valentine balloons...none of them will ever tell the whole love story.
But God. God can love us all the way, completely, fully and to the end. God is infinite while we are only finite. Human. Small. Fragile. Incomplete.
I have a thought, though. A very small thought because I'm finite.
Maybe, God's love is different because it's infinite, and if we abide in God, God will draw us into infinity, too. And, in that infinitely, we will be whole, strong, complete, and able to finish loving...to love God fully, to love each other fully. We will be there in the middle of God, engulfed by the God who is love. And then we can know what love is.