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Sunday
Jun152008
One in a billion
June 15, 2008
I have more and more normal moments each day; moments where I am just doing what I am doing without that burning feeling in my chest, or the slightly nauseous wrenching that means I am fully aware that I am displaced. I would describe these feelings as a little bit like what a baby goes through when she is playing happily in someone's lap, only to look up and discover, that's not my mother!
But they come less and less. More and more I look up and decide that although this lap belongs to a stranger, she seems safe. Maybe even likeable. Maybe even someone who will be my friend.
Loneliness is something that is fairly strange to me. There have been a few times in my life that I have felt lonely; raw, gut -wistingly lonely. The funny thing is that it was usually when I was surrounded by people, but new people. There is a lesson here, I think. There are many lessons.
One time that I can remember is when I was first married. I think I had expectations about finding my other half; about the completion, the wholeness of two people. And then I found myself sitting beside Chinua on our little couch in our little room, realizing it's still just me in here. As much as Chinua is my other half more than anyone else in the universe, I stand alone before God. We all do. It was crushing to me at the time, though. I think I had expected more magic, less conversations with the words- "Can you tell me one more time exactly what you mean because I just don't understand?" in them.
I've had a series of epiphanies like this; the discovery when I became a mother that I didn't feel any different. I was still just Rae, but 24 hours-on-call Rae who might not possess all of her faculties, and was alternately giddy and weeping. And spouting milk.
My grandmother told me once that she used to look in the mirror in her late seventies and feel exactly the same inside as she did at thirty. Her body was like a stranger.
But mostly, loneliness has not been a big part of life for me. As an introvert who is married with three children and has lived in community for the last ten years, I just don't have time to be lonely. I'm more often looking for solitude.
But there are new lessons for all of us, and coming here has been lonely. At least for now. I'm so thankful for my sweet, sweet husband. But we both look at each other at times and wonder where everyone is.
Lessons come for understanding, I think. Right now I want to reach into the solitude of anyone I can and place my hand right between their shoulder blades, and say, in the words of many taxi or rickshaw drivers in India, "I am here." It is good for me to experience the slightest touch of the lonely traveler. It's from this place that I will invite the lonely traveler into my home, offer him some chai, welcome him to my table.
But they come less and less. More and more I look up and decide that although this lap belongs to a stranger, she seems safe. Maybe even likeable. Maybe even someone who will be my friend.
Loneliness is something that is fairly strange to me. There have been a few times in my life that I have felt lonely; raw, gut -wistingly lonely. The funny thing is that it was usually when I was surrounded by people, but new people. There is a lesson here, I think. There are many lessons.
One time that I can remember is when I was first married. I think I had expectations about finding my other half; about the completion, the wholeness of two people. And then I found myself sitting beside Chinua on our little couch in our little room, realizing it's still just me in here. As much as Chinua is my other half more than anyone else in the universe, I stand alone before God. We all do. It was crushing to me at the time, though. I think I had expected more magic, less conversations with the words- "Can you tell me one more time exactly what you mean because I just don't understand?" in them.
I've had a series of epiphanies like this; the discovery when I became a mother that I didn't feel any different. I was still just Rae, but 24 hours-on-call Rae who might not possess all of her faculties, and was alternately giddy and weeping. And spouting milk.
My grandmother told me once that she used to look in the mirror in her late seventies and feel exactly the same inside as she did at thirty. Her body was like a stranger.
But mostly, loneliness has not been a big part of life for me. As an introvert who is married with three children and has lived in community for the last ten years, I just don't have time to be lonely. I'm more often looking for solitude.
But there are new lessons for all of us, and coming here has been lonely. At least for now. I'm so thankful for my sweet, sweet husband. But we both look at each other at times and wonder where everyone is.
Lessons come for understanding, I think. Right now I want to reach into the solitude of anyone I can and place my hand right between their shoulder blades, and say, in the words of many taxi or rickshaw drivers in India, "I am here." It is good for me to experience the slightest touch of the lonely traveler. It's from this place that I will invite the lonely traveler into my home, offer him some chai, welcome him to my table.
Reader Comments (15)
I have been reading your posts for several months now after finding your blog as a link from an article by Catherine Newman(wondertime.com). I admire your hearfelt words, your travels and most of all your spirit. Thank you for sharing your experiences. Your lessons learned are lessons for us all. You may feel lonely at times but you are far from alone, as you already well know, I am sure. My best wishes, thoughts and prayers for you and your family.
-J
Isn't it funny how we all discover this - that it's all about our Father! I remember trying to fill each empty space - getting married, then having children, then getting my own house, or something nice and new, only to discover that all in all it didn't make that much difference. My peace and quiet come when I make time for just sitting at my Father's feet, listening to him.
You are awesome! Thanks for sharing and blessing so many.. Miss you!
Journey Mama truly is the perfect name for your writing here. We can learn so much and find such companionship by sharing bits of each others' journeys. You share so eloquently about yours. The analogy of a baby in a stranger's lap is just perfect for what you are describing.
Wow Rae! You keep overwhelming me with picture perfect word images. You are truly amazing. Blessings and Peace to you, my friend.
The last few times I've commented, all the previous commenters have beat me to it and pretty much summed up my reaction to your post. I feel like I'm learning something about how to LIVE every time I stop by. May He bless and keep you and your family!
Rae,
I find in your words - beautiful images, stirring stories and encouragement, to be more...to want more from myself to give others. But mostly I find the kind of truth I long for and connection - as another woman, mother and child of God. I am in my new place also and I come here often to check on you and I'm always grateful for the generosity of your words. I was so lonely in Germany and scared and finding it very hard to be away from family and go through rough things like postpartum without my mother and sisters. It's one of the hardest things I've ever gone through in my life and it was supposed to be like some extended European adventure. It slowly became something else and when I was able to let go of what I thought it would be I found so much joy in the simple, daily things around me. When I think of it now I actually like the memories of simple things like walking to the local open market with my children more than the big adventures to places like Austria. I see now even more clearly the gifts that God gave me and the things I learned in those lonely and difficult times. They are helping me now in my new place back in the strange and familiar US. Yesterday I met another girl who had just moved back to the States after living in Germany for three years. "Doesn't it seem like it was just a dream?" she asked. "Yes," I told her, "it does." And yet sometimes I look around me and all of this feels like a dream. At the end of the day when I am curling up next to my husband in the dark or sitting around laughing like I haven't laughed in years with my sisters - that's when I feel myself and I don't feel that strange, unanchored, floating feeling.
My prayers go out to you guys.
Your words about a baby playing contentedly in someone's lap brought this verse to mind. Check out Psalm 131:2 in the Amplified bible...the idea of a weaned child sitting in his mother's lap, not dis-quieted or yearning in any way stands out it my mind. I remember being so happy when my kids were weaned to the point that they'd come sit quietly with me for no other reason than to just be with mommy. No alterior motives- a calm little soul snuggling up without rooting around in my shirt. (Insert your idea of "spouting milk" here..) This is the way God must yearn for us to come to Him. I think it's the perfect word picture for what worship really is. Many times I've felt invisible and many times it has driven me to His lap- He really is the "God Who Sees Me". And you too. Hope you feel loved, encouraged and less invisible & lonely today.
I'm new to your blog. I stumbled upon it by chance through " Walk slowly live Wildly" I'm so glad I did!
You have such a wonderful spirit and a truth about your words which is sincere and touching.
Thankyou for sharing glimpses of your life. Your journey, pieces of your heart. God Bless :)
SuzyQ
Thank you! At 44 these words still ring true to me. I am in the second love of my life with a wonderful man. We were both married for 18-ish years before finding each other. I keep waiting to feel complete. I remember wanting to feel complete the first marriage. I remember my body as age 18 and 115 lbs--not this body, surely not this body. My daughter, in her first year of motherhood. My grandson. Your words. Our lessons, repeated over, and again. It is being human. The need to touch another, comfort, embrace, heal. The search for understanding. God bless.
I just wanted to echo all of the comments that have already been made. I so relate to your points : marriage, motherhood, alone time in a community. Nice to know that I'm not alone. I'm enjoying watching your journey.
I love your posts about Jerusalem...brings it all home to me again. I've never been in another place quite like it.
Safe, healthy, and safe travels to you and your family.
I felt really really lonely when we moved to Wisco. I was fine for the first month while we lived with the in-laws but as soon as we had our own place and it was just me and the baby for hours alone everyday it was really hard. And right out my window I would see a flourishing little community of Indian families - the moms and kids at the playground, the dads and men playing volleyball. Just sitting in my apartment, with my friends so many miles away. I have to tell you that your blog meant the world to me in that season - I still had a sister sharing her heart with me and giving me a little window back into the land. It's so hard coming out of community living. But in time the onslaughts of lonliness grew further and further apart and eventually I acclimated to these different surroundings. Share-your-daily-life-with kind of friends are hard to find and I'm really grateful for the things that still keep us connected, across the country and across the world. I love you Rachel!
Beautiful. Raw. Real. Captivating. Thank you.
I just looked at your flicker pics and I realized... I missed your birthday.... don't tell me I did. When is your birthday??
Hi Rae,
I too found your website from reading Catherine Newman and have been finding the tales of your travels with your family so wonderful and inspiring. Thank you so much for taking the time to share in this way. I hope your journey is everything you hoped and then some!
Wow, thank you for that. Your writing is feeling like therapy for me today. All the talk about loneliness, and how you felt it at different points in your life when you were expecting different.
Thank you stranger. This is beautiful.