Surely Goodness

Yesterday, I made a salad.  But it was one of the most calming and peaceful experiences I have ever had.  See, I didn't just make a salad.  I left work and went home to a man who deeply cares for me.  Then, in the quiet with glasses of wine and music playing, we made dinner.  We chatted, and shared sweet touches every now and then, and sang along to the music when the need arose, and joked.  But then, at other times we just stood in the quiet across the kitchen from each other working on our own tasks to make dinner for friends.  And in that quiet moment as I glanced up and looked out the back windows at some beautiful land, I caught a glimpse of the rest of my life.

I heard a pastor say a few weeks ago that the life of the Christian is meant to be a quiet and simple life.  Yesterday, I got just a little taste of what it will be like over the years to come.  The quiet.  The simplicity. The assurance. The comfort of a lover and a best friend who isn't going anywhere.  He looks nothing like anything I pictured I'd end up with - this man across the kitchen in the wranglers and fishing shirt, with his red beard and his deep kind eyes, with deep visible and invisible scars.  This man with his broken past who has seen and survived more than he lets anyone know.  This hard man who loves softly and completely.  On paper he's not who my dad would want me to end up with, but he's my match, and it's like everything finally makes sense, because when God moves, He moves.  When God acts in his sovereign goodness, it's irresistible.  And it is good.  It is often hard, but it is well with my soul. So why would you even want to resist?  Why not just enjoy each second of the ride?

Surely goodness, surely mercy,

right beside me all of my days,

I will dwell in your house forever,

and bless your holy name...

Alone and Steadfast

I hate eating alone. I hate going almost anywhere alone. (Driving and shopping I like to do alone, but that's about it.) Last week a friend of mine was telling me about how he ended up early that morning before work at IHOP, and that he was the youngest person there. I, of course, had to tease him about his age, because he constantly teases me about my youth  (we're only ten years apart, but we milk it). But, see he does that kind of thing all the time. The man travels to New York and Boston and wherever by himself. It's impressive to me, but also terrifying.

So I find myself this morning, sitting in a little cafe in Santa Fe, NM eating breakfast alone. I came armed with books and cell phone (still fasting from social media, btw). But I know I had that deer in the headlights look. And I can feel my odd extroverted introvert self trying to control and hide the panic within that comes from  being in public alone.

But then the ridiculousness of it all really comes home. Are we ever really alone?

Life can truly be so lonely sometimes, and we can't deny or try to ignore that feeling. I feel lonely, forgotten, unlovable, and unvalued often. I know there are lots of people in my life who would immediately dispute each of those things, and they would be right, but that doesn't change the feeling when the world that is broken rushes past you and beats you against the rocks.

But, are we ever really alone? When I teach the Protestant Reformation, I basically do a crash course of Christian theology and doctrine. We live in such a secular and anti-liberal arts world that my 15 year olds show up with very poor cultural and religious educations (regardless your faith, these are important foundational ideas of western culture that must be understood). When I teach this, I have to talk about the omni's - god is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent.  He is everywhere and knows every thing.  So, are we ever really alone?

I realize that I hate doing things alone because of how it looks. Because I desperately crave affirmation from earthly things and earthly people that I am wanted and worthy. But, if God knows everything and is everywhere, and then decided that he was going to love me, and forgive me, and surely give goodness to me then who am I to decide otherwise? Why do I so desperately cling to earthly things to make my life worthwhile? What is it deep down in my soul that makes me so very needy and dissatisfied?

I don't fully have the answer yet, but I recognize it. So, as I sit here in the little cafe alone I recognize that if I'm always alone (as much as I want to banish the thought and live in fear of that being my story) I'll be ok. I really will. Because I'm never really alone. It's like having that childhood  imaginary friend actually be real and a thousand times more powerful than you ever imagined. And that is a beautiful story, even if it doesn't play out like I always imagined it would.