The last time I felt the sting of loneliness was yesterday. I sat in a familiar space with familiar people, but the emptiness opened up within me like a sinkhole anyway. And I think that’s important for you to know.
This is a weird way to begin an essay series. I own that. Most of us like to give the impression that we have it all together, the solutions all lined up like ducks in a row. Part of me is resisting the urge to hand you my credentials.
But I want to begin this conversation with the admission that I bear the same ache. Regularly, I walk into rooms wondering what parts of me are welcome. My mind spins at the thought of voicing certain questions or making my opinions known, fearful I will be swallowed alive by misunderstanding. I tend to tip-toe around wearing half-truths rather than letting myself be fully known. In many ways, I am my own worst enemy when it comes to belonging, because alone seems safe. At the very least, predictable. And we humans like the illusion of control.
Yet as I look out at the complexities of loneliness and the havoc polarization is wreaking upon our communities and our souls, I want more for us. And while I would never claim to be a mouthpiece for God, I think the ways we are born reaching for one another reveal the want of communion is grafted into our bodies and our souls. The Creator looks with love at the created and wants more for us too. But the reality is that “more” takes courage we do not always feel, and relationships cannot breach the surface when we show up as anything other than ourselves.
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