I read a post by my friend Ken Davis this morning. Made me think of those headlines about some cat lady whose death went unnoticed by neighbors for days before the constant mewing alerted them something was amiss. Another friend, Spence Smith, added his commentary to Ken’s post. Check ’em both out, then I’ll make it a third.
Every time I read about a flesh-and-blood someone who’s death (or life) went completely unnoticed, I get that sick feeling in my stomach. First sadness for the unknown life, quickly followed by this thought: Surely someone would notice if I expired, right? God help me if I end up like old sour cream two weeks past due …
For reasons I won’t go into, a wall of challenges has taken shape around me over the past year+ which seems to have grown steep and completely unmanageable. And, like so many of you, when I face the insurmountable, I end up feeling isolated.
Though I felt entirely pathetic doing so, I mentioned this cloud of “aloneness” to a friend last week. Such comments aren’t great conversation boosters, so I dropped the glum-bomb briefly before moving the conversation along.
Then she called today, remembering my fleeting moment of transparency. Wanted me to know she’s in my corner. A little nudge to make sure I’m still kicking.
So, what’s true? One, aloneness is a feeling, not a reality. A pretty convincing mirage sometimes, but not truth. Even if you truly have no one else, I’m cheering for you. Even more so, the One who made you.
Two, aloneness is no respecter of persons. Or schedules. It hits the heart of the known and unknown, the married and unmarried, the employed and unemployed alike. And usually at the most inconvenient times. Count on it.
And three, it’s not always about you (ouch!). There is always someone else shrouded in their own aloneness. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own I don’t have a clue. And miss a chance to have a little company in my cloud. Or maybe even leave the aloneness behind. Bonus.