Our fears in God's hands

As far back as I can remember, my big fear was being left alone.  I felt that I would be miserable, that my life would be spent in quiet desperation, and that I would never be happy.  Well, I'm a widow and the last of my children left home this summer, and aside from his dog, I am alone.  Miserable, in quiet desperation, unhappy?  Quite the opposite.  In fact, I've realized that the solitary life is the life that suits me best.  I can come and go as I please, I answer to nobody but myself and God, and I can do what I feel needs to be done without concern about others.  What I didn't realize is that a life alone is not a lonely life.  I have access to my children through Facetime and the phone, I have work and friends, and actually I am busier now than I was when David was home.  Not that I don't miss my kids--of course I do.  But I wouldn't dream of moving to be with them or begging them to live near me.  This season of my life is a season of work and God and writing, and all of those--even work at times-- call for solitude.

For many people, life is a series of living through fear.  We fear something and go to great lengths to make sure that it doesn't happen, even though our running from that fear puts us in greater pain or distances us from God's will.  Take people in domestic abuse, for example.  They know that they are in danger; they realize that their lives are escalating out of control; yet their fear of leaving their partners and finding help so overwhelms them that they stay in the relationship. It's not uncommon to find that they only leave when the partner begins abusing the children.  Some don't even leave them.  They can't imagine life without the stability of the partner's job or money or status, and so they stay.

What people don't realize is that God is with us through that fear.  He will be with us when we take the necessary steps.  He will be with us through the hardship that might come after.  He will be with us when our situation changes.  If we put our trust in him, we can be sure that this will become good for us.  I'm not saying that we will regain our former station; I'm saying that he can teach us to be content in whatever station we find ourselves.

What is your biggest fear?  For me it was being alone.  Nothing overcame that fear like being alone and finding that it isn't the end of my world.  It's the beginning.  I pray that you face your fear and ask the Lord how you can walk through it so that it no longer overwhelms you.

Go and make disciples of all people

Looking down the boulevard, she waited for the visitors that never came.  She had waited all these years, sitting on her porch, looking down the street, hoping against hope that the person sauntering, the old man tottering, the child scampering--that even one of them would be for her.  She was alone--had been since her mother died.  She hadn't particularly enjoyed caring for the woman.  She was cranky and demanding, but she was a voice that spoke to her, a person to play cards with at night.  Since her death,  she had gone quickly from grief to quiet solitude.  At first, the quiet didn't bother her.  After her mother's grating and demeaning demands, quiet was for a time a welcome friend.  But the quiet became all-consuming, and she began to feel as overwhelmed by it as she had by her overbearing mother.  She took to sitting on her porch, a small woman hunched in a lawn chair.  To the people passing by, she was a shadow.  Many didn't even realize she was there--she was that insignificant.

One day, sitting in her chair, she saw two men in white shirts, black pants, and ties.  They had ridden their bikes to the corner nearest her and locked them against a light post.  She watched as they went from one house to another, knocking, waiting, and then moving on.  The woman knew that it was Saturday, and many people were either working or away.  Not all, though.  Some were inside, but they didn't want to open their door to these clean-cut young Mormon missionaries.  Not her.  They would be welcomed--someone to speak with.

As the boys made their way up her walk to her door, she noticed how very young they were.  She could hardly remember being that young.  Their eyes sparkled, even though they seemed at the same time very weary.  By the time they had gotten to her house, their jaunty step had turned--just slightly--to a more world-weary trudge.  The optimism that had exuded from them had faded somewhat.  As they came to her porch, she had the thought, and it went from unvoiced to voice in a second:  "Are you boys thirsty?  Can I bring you some lemonade?"  They seemed very grateful, and she went into the empty house and quickly found glasses and a tray.  She made them each a glass of lemonade, and then she made them each a sandwich, too.

When she came back with the sandwiches and lemonade on the tray, the boys seemed grateful--and relieved.  She suddenly realized--they probably thought she had used the offer as an excuse to get away from them.  Awkward with the attempt to make conversation after all these years, she said, "Oh, I wasn't trying to get away, boys.  I just thought you probably were hungry, too."  The missionaries smiled at her.  "It's all right, ma'am.  We were going to wait as long as necessary."  The stilted English and beautiful accent were charming.  "Where are you from, my dear?"  "Germany, Ma'am."

The woman told them to feel free to sit on the porch swing and eat.  She would wait, and she promised she would listen.  They had no idea how eager she was to listen--to anything.  It had been so long since anyone had come to her house, these boys seemed like angels to her.  The other missionary smiled his thanks.  He seemed shy, but when he spoke, he seemed to know exactly who she was.

Ma'am, we're here to tell you about our faith.  Do you mind if we speak to you about a man, Jesus Christ, who sees you and loves you and wants you to have an eternal home with him?  If you believe, I can promise you that you will be part of a new family, and you will never be lonely again.

Tears began to flow.  She barely listened to the words as they spoke about this Jesus and his travels in America.  She'd gone to church with her mother, (a woman who delighted in slamming her door in the faces of Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses), but this, to her, wasn't about religion.  This was about never being lonely again.

As the boys finished their talk, she was more than ready.  She prayed a prayer, got a hug, and was given an address for a church nearby.  They promised that a church member would call upon her soon.  As they went away from her house, smiling and optimistic once again, she sat back in her lawn chair, amazed.  They had promised:  she would never be lonely again.

From within their houses, several of her mother's friends--members of her church--had been watching the interaction.  They sniffed to themselves.  'Well!  Who would have thought!'  But nobody went to her to speak about it.  They left her to her new fate and retreated into their womb of hypocrisy.

have you seen me?

Have you seen me?
I'm pretty hard to find,
In fact, sometimes it seems that I am invisible.

I am very good at hiding.
I shy away from people,
Even though I desperately want to be loved.

I have been wounded,
and I am afraid that I will be wounded again,
So I keep myself to myself
And do not seek out companionship.

Have you seen me?
I come out only when I think it's completely safe.
and then, not for long.

You might think, "Oh, she's feeling playful today!
What a change from her normal, serious side!"
That's me.

I'm still a child.
I think I always will be.
Hiding among the shadows,
I never got a chance to grow up.

Have you seen me?
I don't appear on any milk carton,
No flyer will ever carry my likeness.

Only her.

She carries remnants of the girl she used to be.
Deep within her lies the broken soul of her childhood self,
Stuffed down, eaten away, pushed into a corner

Not out of hatred
But out of fear.

But once in a while she hears me
And she dares to reveal me
At least for a little while.

If you see me,
Please remember

And when I'm not around,
Please tell her that you miss me.

Then maybe
just maybe

i can come outside
see the sun
and once again be part of her

forever.

please.....

loneliness

I am
alone.
Totally and utterly
alone.

Sounded good in Beetleguise, but not so much in real life.

You are as alone as you let yourself be.

You can choose to be solitary and enjoy it

Or you can choose to be alone and miserable.

I've tried both
and I prefer the former to the latter.

I'm not one of those that feel that Facebook is ostracizing.

It can be if you let it,

But for people like me,
in a town far away from my family,

I feel that it helps me connect with my family and friends
(although my kids would probably say "keep tabs on" or "snoop").

We are moving away from each other at an alarming rate.

Even 100 years ago, this was not true.

Families stayed together.

But today, it is too easy to pick up and move.

So we are islands in space,

Separated by distance,
but not by love.

Thank goodness for the phone,
Facebook,
Email,
And all the rest of it.

However, I know that there are still some very lonely people out there.
There are people who sit and stare at nothing night after night,
people who live their lives through the tv because they have no other to speak of.

I pray for those people,

but am honest enough to admit

that I have little idea

(and sad to say less inclination)

on how to get in touch.

So I will pray for them

That they will find a friend.

And I will ask your prayers for me,

That I can learn to be one.

And how about you?