Loneliness

Lost Child

I’ve lost a child. Not to death, but to a unilateral decision she has imposed. And with the loss of my daughter, I’ve lost my two granddaughters, because if she doesn’t feel safe with me, how can I expect her to feel like her daughters are safe with me? It feels like abandonment and failure and like a part of my soul has been sawed out of me slowly with a rusty blade. It’s happened over time, in ponderous, agonizing engagements marred by masked platitudes and polite smiles and saccharine sentiments intended to build connection that instead built walls of resentment and pain. I didn’t set out to destroy our relationship. Or cause her pain. Or alienate her. All I’ve ever wanted was to be her mom. To love and support her and know her. And right now, that’s not something she wants.

It’s been hard to accept. Hard to even say. I’ve felt a lot of shame in my grief and loss. I’ve wondered what I did that caused her to take this radical action to exclude me from her life. I’ve spent pages in my journal and hours with my therapist and my husband processing and processing and processing, weeping and wondering and waiting and hoping that somehow I could discover through self reflection, through intellectual understanding, through shared pain, through understanding and curiosity what it would take to mend this brokenness, to restore my relationship with this person I have loved since before she took her first breath. If I could just fix myself, the problem would be solved. But that was the problem all along. All the processing, all the hoping, all the praying, all the begging, all the cajoling is lost if her answer right now is, “No, thank you.” And no amount of taking responsibility for it all on my own will ever be the solution. 

My daughter didn’t choose to be born to a mother with CPTSD and chronic health problems. Her childhood had more traumatic experiences than she deserved. And I didn’t choose to experience the traumas of my lifetime, either. We are all victims of our circumstance to some extent, especially as children, and when we are grown, we have the ability to choose to heal and grow from those experiences or not. I’m choosing to walk the lonesome valley of self-discovery and healing. It is a difficult road, and not one I ended up on easily. I believe she is on a similar journey. And I have faith that she will find her way.

But up until this point, the only relationship she and I have ever had has been obligatory for her. I’m the only mother she has. I don’t want an obligatory relationship with her and I don’t think she does either. So I’m choosing to believe that it is the obligatory relationship she is rejecting. And I reject it with her.

I want the relationship of our future to be equal. Two autonomous adult people agreeing to a connection of mutual respect and understanding. And I think that’s probably what she wants, too. But that’s something she must determine for herself.

For me, just like the serenity prayer, I will have the courage to accept the things I cannot change, find the courage to change the things I can, and pray for the wisdom to know the difference. And hope for these things to manifest in her as well.

These things I know: my love for her is unconditional and my love for myself is likewise unconditional. The world is a cruel and broken place. Circumstances beyond our control have caused painful consequences. I have scars and I have given scars. I have wounds that still fester and wounds that have healed. And I endeavor to daily face the challenges that come from the realization of my imperfection and the imperfection of others. I will carry on. I will work on growing myself. I will work harder to listen and understand. I will treasure the relationships I have with my other children, and be thankful that in this moment they allow their journeys to run in tandem with mine. 

For my lost daughter I know the most loving thing I can do is to respect her autonomy. She owes me nothing. She owes herself everything. She has to do what feels best and right for her. My hope is that it’s not forever. My hope is that she finds the healing and comfort and community she needs in those that she has chosen to have in her life. My hope is that she will continue to grow and heal and overcome any of the obstacles that have gotten in her way, that have kept her from feeling safe, and in time she will be ready to initiate a new relationship with me. One that she chooses to have with me because she feels safe with herself and safe with me, and not because she feels obligated to some pretense of family inflicted upon her.

I’m willing and able and ready to wait for her. I’ve made myself available to relationship counseling with her whenever she is ready if that is what she needs. Until then, I will respect her decision to maintain distance. And grieve deeply the loss of what I cannot currently have with her or her children. She’s worth it. They’re worth it. And so am I.

Socially Distant

Social distancing.  What a statement! We live in a world that is as socially distant as it’s ever been.  Phone calls, Facebook, Twitter, Marco Polo, Skype, Zoom calls, Tik Tok. It’s called social media for a reason.  It’s social communication. Aren’t all of these social conveniences supposed to be the very definition of social? But it’s social at a distance.

We are a culture of social distancing.

We’re a vast global community, celebrating our technological advances, and our interconnection.   We can see and speak and interact instantaneously to someone on the other side of the world. And yet, we’re lonelier than we’ve ever been.  We lack nothing in our ability to reach out. Yet, our social networking has brought us more social distancing than any virus ever could.

 We once lived in villages together, alone on a vast planet of villages, separated by days or weeks or months of arduous journey.  We only had our village. We took care of each other, worked together, protected one another, lived together. Our lives in our villages were intertwined.  Connected.

Now, even together, we live alone.

Last night I wrote a Facebook post saying, “I’m extremely lonely.” The responses were the clearest representation of our social truth right now.  We’re all lonely. But not for why we think.

This novel coronavirus, as it spreads across the world, has pointed out the terrible truth of what our world has become. While we were looking at our phones and meandering through grocery store corridors plucking fanciful delights into our rolling baskets, we lost our village.  We lost our community. We lost ourselves.

Our villages have turned into metropolitan mega areas with larger and larger populations.  Our technology has given us thousands of friends, thousands of neighbors, thousands of things to talk about, and stolen every last drop of our identities.  We are giant hives of drones in active nothingness.

We are alone in a whirlwind.

We are lost.

My cry for help was a cry for all people right now.  

Help us, O Lord!  We are a people lost and alone and nothing can save us but You. This virus, this terrible virus that takes our breath away is the final burning anger of a world who has lost the breath of Life that is You, Jesus.  Breathe into us today with Your life giving breath. You are the great I AM. You Breathe. You Give Life. Restore your Creation, God. Restore Your people. Breathe into us again.  

Psalm 62 

For God alone my soul waits in silence;
    from him comes my salvation.
2 He alone is my rock and my salvation,
    my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken.
3 How long will all of you attack a man
    to batter him,
    like a leaning wall, a tottering fence?
4 They only plan to thrust him down from his high position.
    They take pleasure in falsehood.
They bless with their mouths,
    but inwardly they curse.
Selah
5 For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,
    for my hope is from him.
6 He only is my rock and my salvation,
    my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
7 On God rests my salvation and my glory;
    my mighty rock, my refuge is God.
8 Trust in him at all times, O people;
    pour out your heart before him;
    God is a refuge for us.
Selah
9 Those of low estate are but a breath;
    those of high estate are a delusion;
in the balances they go up;
    they are together lighter than a breath.
10 Put no trust in extortion;
    set no vain hopes on robbery;
    if riches increase, set not your heart on them.
11 Once God has spoken;
    twice have I heard this:
that power belongs to God,
12     and that to you, O Lord, belongs steadfast love.
For you will render to a man
    according to his work.

 

Are You There God, it’s Me, Daisy

Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver;
    I have tried you in the furnace of affliction.
For my own sake, for my own sake, I do it,
    for how should my name be profaned?
    My glory I will not give to another.
Isaiah 48:10

The holidays are here. Pretty lights, joyful songs, bright smiles from strangers, all create an expectation of joy and anticipation of presents and family and celebration.  Candy and baked goods are passed around with enthusiasm. Decorations fly across houses and yards and streetlights and shop windows. Trees full of lights and shiny ornaments fill up living rooms, and gaily wrapped gifts pile up beneath them.

But what if you’re not feeling it?

Holidays are hard. For so many of us, Christmas and Thanksgiving become a time of sorrow.  Loneliness, depression, past memories and expectations from others take our minds and hearts to a place of affliction and trial, instead of joy.

There’s so much pressure to smile, to laugh, to celebrate. Our lives become performances of their own as we travel to shopping centers, recitals, concerts, parties and religious services.  Music and movies demand our happiness and celebration. It’s exhausting.

In times like these it’s no wonder people get cynical. As the season progresses our “bah humbugs” get louder and louder in our hearts.

It’s an affliction of false promises.

Where are you, Lord, when I feel so terrible?  When the world is singing praise and I’m full of constant sorrow, where do You go?  

Awake! Why are you sleeping, O Lord?
    Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever!
24 Why do you hide your face?
    Why do you forget our affliction and oppression?
Psalm 44:23-24

I feel so alone, Jesus!  Are you even there? Do You see my sorrow in this festival of light and joy?  Icons of trees and saints and presents and reindeer and lights, and You’re not in any of it.  It’s all a lie of faith. And Your name will not be profaned.

I see a baby in a filthy cave surrounded by animal dung and the sounds of lowing cows, snorting goats, and pecking chickens.  

In darkness and filth came the Light of the World.  

2 The people who walked in darkness
    have seen a great light;
those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,
    on them has light shone.
3 You have multiplied the nation;
    you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
    as with joy at the harvest,
   as they are glad when they divide the spoil.
4 For the yoke of his burden,
    and the staff for his shoulder,
    the rod of his oppressor,
    you have broken as on the day of Midian.
5 For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult
    and every garment rolled in blood
    will be burned as fuel for the fire.
6 For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon[d] his shoulder,
    and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
7 Of the increase of his government and of peace
    there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
    to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
    from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.
Isaiah 9:2-7

You are here.  You do understand.  Help me, Father, to receive the fullness of joy that comes only from Jesus. “The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will do this.”

 

Loneliness

Turn to me and be gracious to me,
    for I am lonely and afflicted.
17 The troubles of my heart are enlarged;
    bring me out of my distresses.
18 Consider my affliction and my trouble,
    and forgive all my sins.
Psalm 25:16-18

Last night I had a friend call me.  She’d had a vivid dream/vision of me and she wanted to share it with me.  I know this friend to be prophetic and full of unadulterated joy and confidence in the Spirit, so I was excited and intrigued by what she had seen.

Retelling the details of the dream isn’t as important as what the Lord said to me through it.  He didn’t want me to be lonely. He wanted me to know that if I dwell in a place of loneliness I will begin to feel desperate and trapped, but He has opened the doors wide to green pastures and He is leading me gently by the hand.

Of course this has great value for me, especially since my husband travels internationally regularly to share the Gospel.  But I also can’t help but see that the Lord wants us all to know the freedom of His leadership and companionship.

I’m often guilty of putting my hope for fellowship in the presence of my husband and friends.  And when I do that I am satisfied for the moment, but sorely lacking when those people are not accessible.  Not so with God. He is always there. He adores me and longs to spend time with me. He wants to lead me beside still waters and restore my soul.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2     He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
3     He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
    for his name’s sake.
Psalm 23:1-3

He wants to restore me, comfort me, and BE WITH ME.  And yet my heart strays away, in search of worldly comforts, and worldly desires, even though those comforts and desires only lead to death.

Now, in the midst of loneliness, praying for my husband as he brings the Gospel to dangerous places and I go to bed alone, I am reminded that God is longing for me.  His graciousness and enduring love are infinite and yet they are fully personal to me. When my heart is heavy with the affliction of loneliness and fear, God hears me and hungers for me to draw closer to Him.

When my friend called me last night, she encouraged me to reach out to my friends so that I could receive the gifts of blessing the Lord has for me through them.  But as I meditated on the words she had given me, all I could think of is the longing the Lord has for me, and I’ve pushed away the idea of fellowship with Believers.

I want to put my focus on communion with Him, first and foremost, but I seem to do it at the expense of community with my brothers and sisters.  Only in Him are my troubles settled and my sins forgiven. My sin of dependency of other things besides God. My sin of fear. My sin of doubt. My sin of defeat.  All of them keep me from trusting in the Lord with all my heart.

I am victorious in the Lord!  I have been promised abundant life.  I have been given victory over my enemies.  

Even though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death,
    I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.
Psalm 23:4

I have been promised comfort in the midst of my trial.  I have been promised courage and not fear. Jesus brings comfort when I let Him lead me.  So often I don’t let Him!

I have everything I need when I am in the Presence of the Living God.  

But seeking out friends for fellowship and encouragement also has so much value.  Too often the Lord reminds of the truth of peace in His Presence and so I proclaim it over myself and don’t see results.  Now I know why. God doesn’t want us to be lonely. He made us to dwell in unity.

Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!
Psalm 133:1

Sure, I need my alone time with the Lord, but I also need my fellowship with the Body of Christ, so that my family and I can share our gifts from God with one another, so that we can be encouraged, healed, inspired, and exhorted, just to name a few. There is a happy balance between the enduring and constant fellowship the Lord wants to have with us, and also in the fellowship that we should have together.

Jesus even prayed for us to be in unity with our brothers and sisters in Him:

15 I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. 16 They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. 17 Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. 18 As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. 19 And for their sake I consecrate myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth.

20 “I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, 21 that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22 The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, 23 I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me.

Therefore my prayer is this:

Lord lead me beside still waters, restore my soul, turn to me and be gracious to me.  And help me to be in unity with You AND with the body of Christ here on Earth. As you so aptly said, “It is not good that man should be alone.” (Genesis 2:18)

When I’m lonely I will seek Your Presence as well as the fellowship of believers.  Both are important, and I’m sorry that in the past I have forsaken the body of Christ when I am lonely. Help me in my loneliness, Jesus.  Help me in my fear.

Oh, guard my soul, and deliver me!
    Let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you.
21 May integrity and uprightness preserve me,
    for I wait for you.
Psalm 25:20-21

Amen