A new life
I‘m not sure how the entire month of July passed without me writing a single word.
I am after all retired.
Things on the ranch are busy.
But still. . . .
Even busy, there are days when the only person I really speak with is Al. And if he is busy all day, there is not even that.
That‘s crazy! I was in a profession where I talked all day long. I had almost daily contact with friends. Now there might be a week or even a month without engaging in conversation. When it was daily, sometimes I longed for quiet.
Now in the quiet, I long for conversation. There are plenty of How do you dos, Isn‘t the weather nice today, We sure do need the rain. So nice to meet you. Recipes, restaurants, retail. Hope to see you again.
What‘s lacking is obviously not just human contact. I see people most days. It‘s sharing, discussing, debating. It‘s Let me show you my latest project. I’d love to explain how I did it. What did you think about the debate? Or Israel? Tell me about what you are reading? Al and I are going through this amazingly wonderful and difficult Bible study. I so want to tell you about what I‘ve learned.
So there is little conversation, just thoughts.
Can we leave the kitchen door open just so I can hear someone talk and interact? Would you use my kitchen when you bring something that needs to be assembled? Come through my front door? Recognize that in leaving a full life behind to so gladly join this one, I have holes to fill. Needs that are unfilled.
Friendship. I‘m lacking friendship. Someone to sit with and sew. Go to lunch. Have an afternoon tea or coffee. Talk about the news, books, grandchildren.
Instead, my thoughts rattle around in my brain. Trapped in my head. And what would I talk about anyway? I do things around the house. Sew, wash, clean, put up pictures, make the bed. There are no real problems for me to solve.
I miss someone, anyone, calling me just because they want to probe my brain about a topic or an idea. To glean from all my experience and depth of knowledge. I need to know someone thinks my experiences have value, and I‘m a resource that is dependable beyond exception. Or even recognize that I have experience. A life before Fish and Cross. Memories that were full and robust yet fading from the lack of telling.
I‘m coming to grips with the fact that this might not happen here. Well, the kitchen door might be a reality. But you have to spend real time with people to get to the point where conversations are natural. Where they flow. Where they pick up at the place they left off. Contacting my friends back east is great, but the timing is off. The cadence is gone. We are in different places in different time zones.
I‘m not quite invisible. I‘m like the kitchen table. Present. Seen, but not useful until needed. Other see this as Pap‘s house. Purchases are made by Pap. Pap is thanked for gifts. His time table is the one that is considered. I step aside for grandchildren to hug their Pap. If I am upset, they are concerned for their dad and how it might effect him.
With Ron, we were always Mom and Dad. Nana and Papa. A duo in everyone‘s eyes. Here, I am not even second fiddle. I am not in the band. I am a voyeur. Listening. Soaking in my surroundings. Contributing nothing.
The onus is on me to fix this. And I know I‘m wallowing in the despair that comes with loneliness right now. I give this to God daily.
And still. I struggle.
The burden on Al must be difficult to carry. Knowing he the only person I have to have the kinds of conversations that make me feel vital.
The thing is, I know that God will provide what I really need. I‘m in this place like I‘ve been in other places because He wants me to lean on Him. To reaffirm that He alone is sufficient.
As I search for guidance, I‘m finding wisdom from people and scripture.
David Jeremiah advises:
- Embrace intimacy with God
- Allow God‘s Word to fill my heart and mind
- Activate my network of Christian friends
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