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Dear God of Words,
I wait, everyday, for a knob that won't turn and a door that will not swing open. I wake up, everyday, thinking, "Maybe today will be the day." Only to go back to bed thinking, "Maybe, tomorrow..."
I have come to dislike a lot of words of late; Lock Down, Social Distance, New Normal to name a few. But the one I find most repelling is "Alone".
Lona.
Dear Lona,
Would you believe it if I said, "You're not alone in this?" The irony of that is brutal, indeed. I've always believed that it is not good for a man to be alone. I never made him to be that way for too long.
But Lona, will you do me the favour of considering this, that perhaps, humanity could benefit from a limited period of aloneness? Not loneliness, of course! That just eats you up from the inside. But the aloneness that I propose, is solitude.
Humanity as a whole has been over-engaged for a while now. When families and bosses are not demanding your hearts and minds, the streets and screens are. None of them are bad in themselves but isn't it often the expectant solitude that brightens the engagement that follows?
My other observation on the matter is this: the man that boldly steps from the agony of loneliness to the bliss of solitude ceases to feel alone. He no longer clamps his eyes shut in fear of the darkness only to plunge himself into further darkness by doing so. Instead, he opens his eyes, peers at the almost unperceivable ray of light and dares to hope that there is more where that came from.
My final observation, though, Lona, is this: it is in solitude that you find Me. Could I be a bit cheeky here, and point to your letter for proof? I hadn't heard from you in a while. But it is when the world walks out that you turn to look for Me. When the voices die out, you strain to hear Mine. It is in the yawning emptiness (and you might feel it both at the fragrant garden of Gethsemane and the great fish's smelly belly - the situation itself is often irrelevant) that you are truly ready for me to step in and fill the space that was always only meant to be Mine.
So Lona, do you think you could be still so that you might know Me?
Love,
The God of Words.
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