The Returning Loneliness

When God asks you to move on, how do you go on? 

It became Home. It's always been very close to my favourite place on earth. This summer, in spite of the chaos and heartbreak and loneliness, it really became home. I learned to thrive in the quiet laid back pines of Northern Michigan. Here there were no distractions. Life was much more black and white watching sunset after sunset on the quiet porch of my grandparents farm house. Breathing in that pure air, one could really think. There were afternoons where I lay out in the warm grass and read a book. I worked hard, I did, and customers were not always that fun to serve. Sometimes, when no one was looking, I was bad and didn't put sugar in the Veggie Salad. But here, the hillbillies all knew each other. We were a small town community all a little bit worn by life, and all trying to live our best lives here among the lakes. People's best lives looked very different from person to person, but it was the same in a way. The half pound containers of rice pudding kept everyone over their calorie count for the day. And the sunsets over the lake every single evening made us think deeper than our own little lives.

This is the place that became my home. The people that are my family. 

And then God asked me to move on. 

And suddenly I found myself plopped into a culture and cycle that I didn't recognize or feel apart of anymore. I felt like I was standing in the center of a crazy whirlpool of social functions and work schedules and canning and schooling and people going everywhere all the time. Suddenly I was expected to go to church Sunday morning and Sunday evening. And host company Tuesday nights. And go to church wednesday night. And violin on thursday And youth on friday. And repeat cycle. You drive down the road and everyone passes you, in a mad dash to go where ever they are going. You smile and say "Hi" to the cashier at the grocery store and she shoves you through like she can't wait to be rid of you. Maybe she is your enemy and you just forgot. I mean it has been a whole 2 months right?

A whole two months. I cry at the bowling alley. I cry during prayer at my friends church. I cry myself to sleep almost every night. In the middle of the day I cry on my mom's shoulder.

I hear you guys. I'm telling you. You feel like you don't belong? Like everyone is everywhere and yet no one is really there. I see you. I am one of you. I know now what it is to be the one standing on the edge of the crowd choking back sobs, not daring to set foot into the chaos. i see you. Not having anyone to hangout with. No one to sit with at snack time. Everyone smiles at you and says it's good to see you. No one sits with you and looks you in the eye and hears your heart. I see you. I hear you.  Wanting a place to belong. A place to call home.
YOU ARE NOT ALONE. My friend.

There are people who get you. There are friends that sit beside you and hold your hand while you cry under the neon lights. There are friends who give you big hugs and tell you to be brave. There are people who spend 10 minutes just listening while you talk, and then smile and ask more questions like they actually want to hear what you're saying. There are friends that sit with  you on a train bridge and watch the sun go down. There are people who let you be sad for a while. You know who you are.

And in the middle of it all, Jesus never leaves or forsakes. He never abandons us in a hard place and lets us sit. He always has a plan. He always has a purpose. He always knows what is best.
Trust Him.
And make a big batch of rice pudding for memories sake.
But invite people over to eat it with you, and connect with them.
Because the only thing worse than being lonely is being lonely because you are being a miserable selfish fish wallowing around in self pity.