On Sunday, three friends stood chatting behind my compact car. I noticed their smiles after glancing at my rearview mirror. So fascinated with each other, they were unaware of me.
After hearing an uplifting message at church, I leaned against my cushioned car seat and cried.
Here’s the in-between, step by step: We joined the pastor in a closing prayer. I grabbed my belongings and felt lonely, not confident that I belonged. I smiled and walked as everyone else appeared to have friends and family for fellowship. Exiting into the beautiful spring weather, I knew that I tucked showers inside my eyes.
My sleeves were Kleenex tissues. I was present and unseen in my driver’s seat.
Here is the thing…
Attempts to describe loneliness always feel inadequate. In my life, I can only best describe it in three ways: a missing assurance of connectedness, a fear that I am unknown and unseen, and an insecurity that I may not be enough for even those who say they love me. It’s a fear of missing out on being and knowing that I am loved.
This story is obviously to be continued. With leaking eyes, I found my journal with church notes on the passenger seat. I wrote, “Never Alone”. In the middle of my cry, those words deposited into my heart.
I’m unpacking them.