I have become one of those people I used to secretly pity. When I come home from work, no one greets me. There is no "hey I'm so glad you're home. Which pair of shoes goes better with this dress?" or "Hi! We were just heading out to get something to eat. Wanna come?" or "I know it's raining, but I am dying to go for a run and I need a partner. Up for getting wet?" or even "Are you the one who set fire to the toaster oven this morning?" Nothing. My voice echoes off the bare walls. Not even a cat to rub up against me, claiming me, loudly demanding dinner, demanding that I think of someone other than myself.
The apartment looks exactly like it did when I left this morning. I know where everything is. Nobody has left dirty dishes in the sink, nobody has washed mine for me. Living alone is the pits.
So I turn on the TV and turn to the internet for companionship. Sometimes I find a fat juicy email waiting for me, spanning the ocean, or a friend's new blog entry, beloved details of someone else's life. Or I just hit the "next blog" button until I find evidence of someone who might have been a kindred spirit in another lifetime.
I have decided to view these two years here as on-the-job training. In the grand scheme of things, whether or not these acquaintances will turn into friends is not an issue that will turn heads or make history. But I know it will impact me. So I need to find the positive in it, not because I am naive enough to think that suddenly the uphill battles will flatten out if I put on a happy face, but because I know that if I don't take charge of my psyche, water my spiritual begonias, I am in danger of freezing at first frost. Thus the job focus: I will learn job skills. I will prepare myself to get an amazing job in the town where my friends live. I will be so well trained that they can't say no. I will pump up my resume, and even if no one cries when I leave, at least I will have something to show for the 104 weeks I inhabited this city.
In the past there have been times when I was sure I could feel God's presence in my life, God's love in my heart. As I look back with the gift of 20/20 hindsight, I see that these were the times when I was surrounded by Christian community: campus ministry, Bible camp, a volunteer service year in intentional community, seminary. Always with roommates, always clusters of friends. My faith was nurtured and shaped by that strong network that is created when people pray together and seek to serve the One who created them... together. I'm not sure how to start when I have to go it alone. I can't see God around me now as much... it's not that I think God has gone anywhere; it's just that I've lost my glasses. Or I am looking in the wrong places. I don't think the Holy Spirit will be under "next blog." But you never know.
Monday, November 08, 2004
"Next blog"
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1 comment:
What you said about coming home to an empty apartment after work almost made me cry. I feel the same way. I come home and everything is as I left it in the morning. Almost as if life in my apartment doesn't exist. Sometimes it's nice if you need to be alone for awhile, but sometimes it's unbearable. I can't imagine having to go through it in another country. By the way, I saw your address through a posting you made on a friend's blog.
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