Is It Too Much To Ask?

This has been a puzzling and thought-provoking day for me. We had coffee with Mark and Kim this morning, and that was fun and pleasant, as it always is. But this afternoon, for some peculiar reason, a foolish phrase has been running through my mind. (Nothing to do with the morning coffee chatter, honestly.)

And I feel impelled to write about it; I can't get it out of my mind.

Here is the phrase, "Is it too much to ask ..........? To ask whom? Well, just to get the discussion going, put in "the Fates," "the quirky gods of the universe," "blind Chance," the One True God, or anyone or anything else that we poor human beings think is in control of human affairs.

Got that? Now, let's complete the phrase with some grand hypothetical questions. Such as, "is it too much to ask
that starving children in Africa might somehow be fed? Is it too much to ask that a friend painfully dying with terminal cancer be released from agony? Is it too much to ask that a hearbroken parent might find some kind of comfort when he/she can do nothing to stop a child from destruction?

Are these grandiose questions too heavy? Then how about some simple ones?

Is it too much to ask that a frightened child might find comfort in the arms of a sensitive parent?

Is it too much to ask that a middle-aged Mom might find assurance in her heart that all will be well with her teenager?

Is it too much to ask that an Aged Person might feel compassionate love from unexpected sources?

Is it too much to ask that Someone might find unusual kindness from just an acquaintance or friend?

If you happen to be a pessimist or a melancholy person (as I sometimes am) you would answer "Yes, it is too much to ask. Life is not going to give you reasonable answers to these questions that crowd uncomfortably in your heart.

If you are an optimist or a person of faith (as I sometimes am), you would answer, "No, it is not too much to ask," and I will patiently wait for some kind of reasonable response from somewhere in the universe that will give me hope.


Well, that's the phrase that has been bedeviling my thoughts all day. And do you want to know the cause for this quandary, this morass of twisted thinking, this philosophical mismash of nonsensical questions?

Here it is: "Is it too much to ask that an eighty-six year old woman might have a small, frisky, and hellish little dog to keep and love and fret over?"

And the answer is, "Yes, it is too much to ask."

And I am sad. And I am lonely. And I don't understand.