Two Less Lonely People In The World
When Stephen and I met and decided that we rather 'fancied each other' - his exact words - we jokingly decided that our theme song would be 'Two less lonely people in the world'. But actually it couldn't have been more apt and in the last 24 hours I have been reminded again of how grateful I am to have a life with people in it.
This may seem like an obvious statement - everyone lives lives with people in them but seeing people and being in daily relationships with them are two very different things.
When I was living in Oman eight years ago (how delightfully time flies) I came to know loneliness in a very real and painful way. Fortunately it was only for 6 months but it was long enough for me to have a taste of some people's constant reality.
I was lonely because I lived alone in a huge apartment in a completely alien country and I worked at night. This meant that I was not able to be part of any of the socializing that would normally happen in the evenings. I was unable to join cell groups, or go out for dinner or just generally hang out with the acquaintances I had made. It procluded me from having any kind of normal social life because I was teaching until nine o'clock every evening and then having to drive a four hour round trip into the desert to teach German construction workers during the day. It was grueling and the worst time of my life.
I was also lonely because I wasn't able to communicate properly with my family about what was going on in my life. It was the time of the Arab Spring and everything was being monitored and everyone was paranoid, myself included. I had been writing a blog at the time but my boss made me delete it because she had received warnings from other expats about the things I was revealing about the country. To this day I am not entirely sure what these were - unless a country with superbly crap drivers is a threat to national security.
In short I was isolated, frightened, paranoid and my loneliness was a physical ache. It was only my faith that pulled me through that very dark time. I longed for a normal day where I would eat breakfast with the people I loved and then go to the shops and see a friend or two and then maybe go to a social outing in the afternoon, watch a game of rugby around the TV and then go home with my person and fall asleep next to him. It sounds like a regular kind of day but during that time it seemed like utopia to me.
And so despite the fact that I was seeing a large number of different people everyday none of them were my people. And that's the thing about loneliness.
Today as I was wheeling my trolley to my car my favorite car guard assisted me. We are friends and I always try to park in his area. He asked me how I was and I said I was busy now that I have two kids and a husband to look after. He looked at me sadly and sighed, 'One day I will go back to my children and my wife and my home.' I asked him where they were and he said that he didn't have any but that was his dream, to return home to the Congo and start a family. To have people to go home to. And his loneliness was tangible.
And again today this theme reared its head. I was watching Gray doing one of his extra murals and a mom of one of the other kids started weeping quietly next to me. She has just left her husband and received a message from him that was clearly not intended for her. Later she received a phone call and her fears were confirmed. She muttered quiet, painful questions - how old is she? What does she do? And so on. We walked her to her car and loaded her child into the car. The last I saw of her was her child hanging out the car window, all smiles, while she sat gripping the steering wheel staring blankly ahead of her. All colour drained from her face. I do not know her at all but I regret not asking her if I could buy her a coffee, or look after her child or bring her supper. I hope she had somewhere to go.
And yesterday I saw someone who I haven't seen in three years, recently divorced and they have aged considerably. Their loneliness is now the first thing that they put on the morning.
From a Congolese car guard to a beautiful coiffed Hillcrest mom no one is immune to loneliness. I have a friend who worked for Lifeline. She said that the largest group of people who used to phone were rich housewives from Constantia.
So this is my challenge to anyone reading this. If you are someone whose life is frantic. Children, school lunches, rushed date nights or a hectic social schedule, drinks with the BFFs, globe trotting with your significant other, a full social calendar with people of worth or Bible study and sunset walks with your spouse as you discuss your grandchildren. What ever stage you are in allow yourself a moment of gratitude. If you have someone to go home to at the end of the day or if you relish the solitude of living alone give thanks. And then make plans to spend time with someone who may be feeling lonely. You never know what a difference it could make.
If you are reading this and feeling the empty hours between now and bedtime creeping up on you you are, ironically, not alone. My prayer is that someone or something will enter into your life and fill that empty space. If there is one thing I learnt in the desert eight years ago is that there is a presence who can be with you at any moment of the day. A presence that can put you at the center of the universe and say to you that you will not and can not ever be alone. He's knocking at the door, my prayer is that you have the courage to let Him in.
This may seem like an obvious statement - everyone lives lives with people in them but seeing people and being in daily relationships with them are two very different things.
When I was living in Oman eight years ago (how delightfully time flies) I came to know loneliness in a very real and painful way. Fortunately it was only for 6 months but it was long enough for me to have a taste of some people's constant reality.
I was lonely because I lived alone in a huge apartment in a completely alien country and I worked at night. This meant that I was not able to be part of any of the socializing that would normally happen in the evenings. I was unable to join cell groups, or go out for dinner or just generally hang out with the acquaintances I had made. It procluded me from having any kind of normal social life because I was teaching until nine o'clock every evening and then having to drive a four hour round trip into the desert to teach German construction workers during the day. It was grueling and the worst time of my life.
I was also lonely because I wasn't able to communicate properly with my family about what was going on in my life. It was the time of the Arab Spring and everything was being monitored and everyone was paranoid, myself included. I had been writing a blog at the time but my boss made me delete it because she had received warnings from other expats about the things I was revealing about the country. To this day I am not entirely sure what these were - unless a country with superbly crap drivers is a threat to national security.
In short I was isolated, frightened, paranoid and my loneliness was a physical ache. It was only my faith that pulled me through that very dark time. I longed for a normal day where I would eat breakfast with the people I loved and then go to the shops and see a friend or two and then maybe go to a social outing in the afternoon, watch a game of rugby around the TV and then go home with my person and fall asleep next to him. It sounds like a regular kind of day but during that time it seemed like utopia to me.
And so despite the fact that I was seeing a large number of different people everyday none of them were my people. And that's the thing about loneliness.
Today as I was wheeling my trolley to my car my favorite car guard assisted me. We are friends and I always try to park in his area. He asked me how I was and I said I was busy now that I have two kids and a husband to look after. He looked at me sadly and sighed, 'One day I will go back to my children and my wife and my home.' I asked him where they were and he said that he didn't have any but that was his dream, to return home to the Congo and start a family. To have people to go home to. And his loneliness was tangible.
And again today this theme reared its head. I was watching Gray doing one of his extra murals and a mom of one of the other kids started weeping quietly next to me. She has just left her husband and received a message from him that was clearly not intended for her. Later she received a phone call and her fears were confirmed. She muttered quiet, painful questions - how old is she? What does she do? And so on. We walked her to her car and loaded her child into the car. The last I saw of her was her child hanging out the car window, all smiles, while she sat gripping the steering wheel staring blankly ahead of her. All colour drained from her face. I do not know her at all but I regret not asking her if I could buy her a coffee, or look after her child or bring her supper. I hope she had somewhere to go.
And yesterday I saw someone who I haven't seen in three years, recently divorced and they have aged considerably. Their loneliness is now the first thing that they put on the morning.
From a Congolese car guard to a beautiful coiffed Hillcrest mom no one is immune to loneliness. I have a friend who worked for Lifeline. She said that the largest group of people who used to phone were rich housewives from Constantia.
So this is my challenge to anyone reading this. If you are someone whose life is frantic. Children, school lunches, rushed date nights or a hectic social schedule, drinks with the BFFs, globe trotting with your significant other, a full social calendar with people of worth or Bible study and sunset walks with your spouse as you discuss your grandchildren. What ever stage you are in allow yourself a moment of gratitude. If you have someone to go home to at the end of the day or if you relish the solitude of living alone give thanks. And then make plans to spend time with someone who may be feeling lonely. You never know what a difference it could make.
If you are reading this and feeling the empty hours between now and bedtime creeping up on you you are, ironically, not alone. My prayer is that someone or something will enter into your life and fill that empty space. If there is one thing I learnt in the desert eight years ago is that there is a presence who can be with you at any moment of the day. A presence that can put you at the center of the universe and say to you that you will not and can not ever be alone. He's knocking at the door, my prayer is that you have the courage to let Him in.
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