“As Christians, we are called to convert our loneliness into solitude. We are called to experience our aloneness not as a wound but as a gift–as God’s gift–so that in our aloneness we might discover how deeply we are loved by God.”
~ Henri Nouwen ~

Loneliness. It’s a word that emotes sadness. Emptiness. It has nothing to do with being around other people. It is an ache to be seen and heard by other people. By someone special. To be cared about.

I remember a time of particular loneliness. My home was bursting at the seams. My daughter had moved back home after transferring to a local university. My son had moved back home with a 9-month-old daughter while going through a divorce. Everyone’s lives were going in different directions 100 miles an hour, and I was left behind to deal with the aftermath. I felt forgotten.

My husband basically ignored me, coming home from work and stalling out behind the computer or the tv. My pleas for his attention were falling on deaf ears. I accused him of being lazy, of not caring. The light in his eyes and his tender words convinced me that he still cared, but yet he could not deal with me on the simplest of levels. It seemed that I was more than he could handle. And helping take care of our granddaughter wore him out.

One day, the worst day, I approached him and told him how sad I was with our life. I was in tears. I will never forget him taking my face in his hands, looking deeply into my eyes, and saying, “You have to remind me to pay attention to you. I don’t mean to ignore you.”

This broke my heart. He meant well, but I could not understand why I had to remind my husband to pay attention to me. I never felt so lonely as I did that day.

I turned to my Heavenly Father for solace. I performed all my household duties, worked a full-time job, took care of my granddaughter, did everything that was expected of me. Then in those quiet times that are so precious when a baby has just gone to sleep, I stole away to a place of solitude.

This was not an easy thing to find. I had moved all my personal things into the attic to make room for my family–my sewing machine, my drafting table for designing quilt patterns, everything. There was no place for me in my own home. In the living room, my son was watching tv. My husband was often on the computer in the corner of my kitchen. There was no place to go for solitude. Many times I either left the house and took a drive or just went to bed. It was imperative to my sanity to get away and talk to my Creator.

During those quiet times, I poured out my thoughts to God. He showered me with His presence, reminding me that no matter what, I am to trust in Him. He promised to meet all my needs because He was the Only One who could. His balm covered my soul, healing me each time we met and reminding me how precious I am to Him. He gave me a new strength each day to fulfill my obligations and to serve others.

In a very short period of time, the family stresses went off the chart. My daughter had a wreck. Then my son had a wreck. My son, trying to recover from his divorce, was constantly sick. The stresses of being Mom, of being Nana to a baby were tightening their grip, threatening to squeeze the life out of me.

In the midst of all that, DH realized that he could not see out of his left eye. Of course this was a grave concern to both of us. He began a series of physical exams, each doctor referring him to another until we finally worked our way to the doctor who had the answer.

My husband had grown a pearl.

Right between the eyes.

The pituitary tumor that was zapping his eyesight by pressing on a nerve was also guilty of stealing his energy and his strength. Of stealing his ability to think clearly. Of preventing him from dealing with stress. So there was a reason for his lethargy!

Throughout his surgery and recovery in Intensive Care, I had a triple portion of solitude. I walked every step in that hospital with God. He gave me strength to support my husband. He filled me with great peace and calmness. God walked so close to me during that time that I loved to return to that hospital when DH went back for checkups. It was a holy place for me, a place where God held my hand and whispered my name. My sanctuary.

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