I haven’t posted in a while, and this may be filled with punctuation errors and such as I am on a limited time frame until the house awakens and the presents unwrapped, but this entry is for the person(s) who feel alone during this most wonderful time of the year.
You are never alone.
(230) Journal Entry: December 25, 2017
Not sure what I am feeling at this moment, early Christmas Day. The chaos has settled, each dog occupied with a bone, the stockings set out, coffee made, and all three girls snoozing behind closed doors, on this quiet morning.
So, back to yesterday. The drive to church I feel the anxiety rise with every mile. Tears held back from entering the all-out cry by what little will I have, along with looking up at the ceiling, which seems to keep them at bay.
Until an interesting thing occurs–I begin to settle down. My insides no longer wanting to sprint, but stay. I am flooded with embraces throughout the day, each one coming up, holding me extra close, praying for me. I am home in this moment.
Maybe this has been my home all along, this Bibleland, this church.
I make my way to a service (I am working the others), alone. A friend suggests I sit with their family, a large one, near the back. I am one who prefers the front so I save her invitation for if I feel too upset by myself, and make my way toward the front.
I notice a row with only one person on the end, so I circle around the front and enter the row from the other side. I ask the routine, “Are these seats taken?” She informs me they are open, and I make my way to a seat near her with a comfortable empty seat in between, to keep a safe distance from who knows what, maybe just looking like a creeper since there are ten unoccupied seats.
She leans in, filling the few minutes with small talk, with the routine question in a church as large as this, “Is this your first time?”
“No,” I inform her I’ve been here for some time, and return the question.
“No, I’ve been attending for about a year; I am a widow.”
Four words added to a common answer, perhaps too intimate for initial pleasantries.
When I respond that I am a widow too, her eyes widen in surprise. The next few minutes we fill the gap and exchange husband war stories until the opening credits roll on the screen and service officially begins.
I know this is a moment from God. 2,750 seats and I happen to sit next to another person walking the same path as myself, feeling alone. I wonder if He placed us alongside each other to tell us both, “You are not alone.”
“I see you.”
“I am with you wherever you go.”
“I love you.”
After service we go our separate ways, knowing there is no need to exchange numbers or anything since the connection didn’t seem more than one for that particular moment.
“I am in awe of you God.”
My reading today, which I read yesterday so I wouldn’t feel overwhelmed this morning, was in Numbers. All these numbers, with a few names included here and there. Such a blur.
But God. This God lined up two ‘unnoticeables’ in an auditorium full of seats, alongside one another, whispering to our ache, “You are a treasure of infinite value; the only number you are is Priceless.”
I think of my new word for the upcoming year: WORTH.
Value. He not only whispers my worth, but shows me by way of illustration how valuable I/we are.
Praying today is a sweet day, even though we miss this one person so incredibly much.