Lonely?

“Don’t try to hog loneliness and keep it all to yourself.   Share it with a special someone.
” ― Jarod Kintz, The Titanic would never have sunk if it were made out of a sink.

     I remember a moment when I was still very young, stretched out on the living room floor staring at the ceiling, when I realized, I am alone.  I run this brain.  I run this body.  I am the only one responsible for what I think and do.  I could do whatever I want.  I could walk out in traffic, I could hit somebody really hard, or I could just lay here and be alone in here, inside myself.  People can break into your house or your car or even your life, but they have to have permission to get in your head and/or your heart.  Some people are weaker and allow others to push their way in, but those who have been hurt the deepest find it the easiest to lock everyone out.

     I learned, when I hurt, to go inside myself and slam the door behind me.  Nobody was allowed in my head and especially my heart.  Why?  They wouldn't understand the hurt.  They couldn't understand.  I'm not supposed to be weak.  I am not supposed to need.  I am a mother, father, teacher, boss, pastor, I am supposed to have it together.  I am a Christian and God is supposed to be enough.  I like it in here anyway.  I have it decorated exactly how I want it and nobody can see in unless I want them to.  Even if I allow it, I only let them see the parts I want them to see and some of those aren't real.  They are like hungry dogs scratching at the door to be let in, so I throw them enough scraps of thought or affection to satisfy them so they will go away.  If they want more I find myself getting frustrated and snapping at them, "Can't you see I am lonely and want to be alone."

     Inside myself is that dirty little kid who validates my pain.  "They wouldn't understand.  Nobody ever understands.  Nobody cares anyway."  If I get the urge to curl in a ball and suck my thumb, my little kid curls up with me.  The only annoying thing is that one day years ago, I invited Jesus in here and now I can't be totally alone anymore, because He says He will never leave me.  I remedied that the best I could by forcing Him into a glass box.  Glass?  Because I can see Him through the glass and part of me still wants to know He is here.  Also, I want to be able to talk to Him, but I'm not sure I want to hear what He has to say so it works perfectly.  Occasionally I walk over and lift the lid to see if He is saying anything good, but He always starts with "I love you" and I'm not ready for that.  So, we stare at each other through the glass.  I talk to Him.  I talk all around the issue.  His lips are moving, but I can't hear Him.

     I peek out through the windows at the world going on around me and want to be a part of it, but I can't.  I'm not done being alone.  I'm not done being lonely.  One day I open the lid and instead of an "I love you" Jesus throws out a blue ball.  

     "What is this for?"

     "It's a feeling.  I want you to roll it out the door to the next person who walks by."

     Sometimes Jesus is weird.  I wait by the door and sure enough one of my best friends walk by so I roll out the ball.  He picks it up.  He stares at it for quite some time and then he pulls from his pocket an identical blue ball.  There is a tear in his eye and a gentle smile on his face.  I find myself smiling back at him.  Maybe I'll go out and connect with him for just a minute.  Oh, but first I flip open the lid of the glass box so Jesus can stretch His legs.

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one.”
― C.S. Lewis