I sit today in a silent church, the only one in the pew.
The only one in the building.
I think about the time I was a bridesmaid, writing paper buzzed because of a drink but sobered by my status:
The only single person in the bridal party.
Totally unattached, no prospects.
I shook it off, because so what? I can dance alone. I can eat alone. I can be alone, and be ok. I can even be alone and like it. Because, you know, freedom and me-time and I’ll do what I want, and stuff.
But being alone and being ok with it isn’t a constant.
There are the ups, like flying solo (literally – I like to travel alone), and the time and space and energy to get to know God or your friends or yourself. But while you get a little bit louder now, while the DJ plays “Shout” at a wedding, you don’t really think about the downs.
You don’t really think about the frustration of always hearing from the people in whom you have no interest and hardly hearing again from the people in whom you do. About being so distracted by the desire for a significant other that you waste your time, space and energy dwelling on what you don’t have instead of enjoying or learning from what you do have. While you dance, you don’t really think about the “maybe I am supposed to be single” thought that otherwise looms a lot, or the realization that “maybe I haven’t yet used this time wisely.”
It is in these downs that we don’t think about the truth.
The truth is that while I sit in this silent church, the only one in the pew, the only one in the building, I’m ok with it. And I like it.
I like it because it reveals that I’m not actually alone.
That I – totally unattached and no prospects – am not alone.
I am not alone, because Jesus. I am not alone, because the Church. I am not alone, because every guy I meet is my brother and every girl I meet is my sister.
Because I wasn’t put on earth to find a person to love. I was put on earth to love every person I meet.
Because I meet people every day, and every time I forget it, God finds a way to remind me.