So lonely

He was sitting by himself on the end of the very front row in the room where I was scheduled to speak. I had arrived early to ensure my power point presentation worked at the venue so was preoccupied at first. But then when I had to wait for a staff member to assist, this gentleman and I started to chat. I had already noticed how isolated he seemed to be—and soon I also noticed he was attached to an oxygen machine on his wheelchair.

I cannot remember how our conversation actually began, but it was not long before he told me, a complete stranger, that his wife of sixty-three years had passed away a few months earlier. Then his eyes quickly filled with tears.

‘However much we think we’re prepared for times like this,’ he whispered, ‘it is much, much worse. The pain is terrible. I’m just glad I didn’t go before she did—I wouldn’t have wanted her to experience such pain.’

By then, I was holding his hand. Still with tears in his eyes, he told me how his wife had battled cancer for sixteen years and we talked about how good it was that they had had those extra years together. My heart went out to him—what more could I say? We were in a secular setting and I knew nothing about him.

In the end, after asking him his name, I told him how my husband and I have been in church ministry for a long time and that I would pray for him. I was unsure how he would react but, in an instant, his face lit up with a lovely, grateful smile and he squeezed my hand. In any other setting, I would have prayed out loud for him but had to be content with a quick, silent prayer instead.

A little later, we chatted briefly again and, when he saw some slides in my presentation showing scenes from various ruins in Turkey, he told me he had been a tiler and potter. This gave me the opportunity to include him later as I spoke and he smiled and nodded when I did. Afterwards, I had no chance to catch up with him again. But I hoped he had enjoyed my presentation and that both it and the interaction we had had went some small way towards comforting him in his grief and obvious loneliness.

We do not have to look far, do we, to find lonely people around us? Some may also be carrying heavy burdens of grief like this man—a grief that needs to be shared and listened to with empathy. As this man has come to mind, I continue to pray for him, especially that he will have family and friends around him who understand and have time to listen. But, above all, I pray he will know God’s deep comfort in his own latter years and know too that he is never truly alone with God by his side, just as King David declared long ago. And may we each experience the truth of these words in our own lives too.

Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me. Psalm 23:4 NLT

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On feeling alienated

I wonder if you can recall a time when you felt very much on the edge of a group somewhere. Perhaps this describes your situation right now. Or perhaps, like me, your mind went to some setting years ago where you found you did not entirely belong.

At one stage, my husband returned to pastoral ministry, after some years of lecturing. Our new church welcomed us warmly, but I soon discovered the women had plans for me. You see, this church fielded a large number of netball teams in an inter-church competition, so it was assumed I would happily coach some of these players. Yet there was one small problem. I had never, ever played netball—or even basketball, which was more popular where I grew up!

‘Well—never mind,’ one lady told me, her disappointment obvious. ‘You can give out the oranges at half time instead!’

I knew this was not me, however. Instead, I taught three Scripture classes each week at the local primary school, played the piano at church and hosted various events in our home. I even spoke and sang once when the Sunday School anniversary guest speaker dropped out at the last minute! Yet none of this seemed to matter. I did not join in the business of netball, so never quite fitted in.

Perhaps this is part of the reason I have hated to see people left out in any church communities we have joined—or anywhere else either. And perhaps too this is why my heart went out to our seven-year-old granddaughter, when I heard about a recent conversation that took place at her home. Apparently, Maxine had tried to cheat a little, while playing a game with her mum.

‘If you’re going to do that, I won’t play with you again,’ her mum told her firmly—at which point, Maxine became very upset.

‘Well, Daddy’s too busy working and doing things and my brother’s always playing on his devices and … and because you’re angry at me now, I feel alienated from the whole family!’ she sobbed.

Poor Maxine—although it was her fault, partly at least! Yet where on earth had she learnt the word ‘alienated’? And how did she know exactly what it meant or how it felt?

Most of us, even introverts like me, do not want to feel alienated. We are created to connect, to support one another, to do life together. At times, our church communities may disappoint us in this regard—we are all still works in progress. And at times too, as believers, we may feel alienated from others in the wider community. After all, we are now ‘aliens and strangers in this world’ (1 Peter 2:11), marching to the beat of a different drum. Yet however alienated we might feel from others, we can find such comfort in the fact that we are no longer alienated from God. Instead, through Jesus, we who were far off have been drawn near and warmly welcomed into God’s family with loving, open arms.

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! I John 3:1

We belong in God’s family. We are accepted. We are known. We are loved—deeply and forever.

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Slipping and sliding

I wonder how you are feeling, in the midst of this crazy pandemic. What words would describe what is going on inside you as a result of what is happening—or not happening—around you? … Fear? Confusion? Concern? Anxiety? Anger? Grief? Worry? Depression? Loneliness? Perhaps all of these? Or perhaps you are personally at peace, yet feeling these things in and for others. That too can become a little overwhelming at times, can’t it?

Until recently, I was too busy completing my current novel to stop and contemplate how I was feeling deep down about the weird events in our world. My mind was full of different questions instead. What parts of my early chapters could I leave out to get to the action quicker? What other sections could I remove? How could I bring my characters to life more? Writing a novel can be all-consuming—it can be tricky to weave things together in a way that draws readers in and keeps them turning those pages.

Yet now I have put this novel aside, for the moment at least, I am noticing more how coronavirus has impacted us all. Yes, I have been concerned for family members trying to hold onto their jobs and pay mortgages. But I can sense something bigger around me too—a kind of desperation and even panic. When will this end? How will it end? Will our country be in ruins? How will we all survive?

Then one morning, as I sat at my desk, enjoying the warm, winter sun streaming through my window and listening to the birds outside, I picked up my old bible and turned again to the Psalms. They are my ‘go to’ place when I feel in particular need of God’s comfort and reassurance and encouragement. I began to read Psalm 94 and soon came to the following verses:

When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your love, O Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul. (18-19)

The New Living Translation puts it this way:

I cried out, “I am slipping!” but your unfailing love, O Lord, supported me. When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer.

Sometimes, it does seem as if everything is slipping away from us, don’t you think, as we look at all the things we had hoped to do in these months? Many we know were planning overseas trips and looking forward not only to seeing special places but also family members in other countries. Then there are those in much more disastrous situations, watching their livelihoods slip away, as shops and businesses are closed or as customers are afraid to venture into such places. Meanwhile, our leaders must wonder at times if their ability or power to make the wisest decisions for our nation and turn things around for everyone is slipping through their fingers. Yet, whatever our situation in life, that unfailing love of the Lord is still there, willing and able to hold us firm and stop our panicking, downward slide.

So right now, I’m reaching out my arms to the Lord and holding on tight, drinking in that comfort and hope and deep joy only he can give. And I hope and pray you can do that too.

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