Not so nice

Found here

Today in church I remembered afresh that mine is a face that many people in the area recognize and connect with various public performance-type things: Bible lesson teaching, singing, administering programs, teaching in the university, supervising students, writing--lots of things that get positive strokes. People whom I don't know will call me by my name and speak with me as though I am supposed to know them, when their sense of familiarity is from seeing me give a seminar. I have no corresponding sense of familiarity about them, so there is nothing very authentic feeling about me being more than warmly cordial.

It also sometimes seems that people also have an inflated sense of my goodness. Just because I have stage presence, can sing or speak, or be entertaining and personable during my talks does not necessarily a nice person make. As a therapist and as a Christian speaker and writer, people expect me to live out all sorts of great qualities that never flag. I suppose that is the ideal, but I can't pull it off.

I do not feel like a nice person today.

Someone approached me in church and asked me to see his nephew in therapy. Tonight. That was pretty shocking. I asked what the hurry was and was told that this young man is going abroad for school on Tuesday morning. Well, why not see him on Sunday? He would be at Six Flags for the day. Well then, what about Monday? He has lots of errands to run and might not be able to fit me in. In my mind I was saying, "Well, it must not be that important then."

Why would someone ask me a question about business issues in church, on the Sabbath? Oh--a simple answer exists for that: many people think that counseling is a pastoral advice-giving enterprise and that I should be prepared to do it in the name of the Lord at any time. And did I mention, for free? I was really annoyed and I did not feel nice. But in spite of this I called the nephew tonight and spoke with him about when I might be able to fit him in on Monday. As I always do, and according to my discipline's ethical standards, I discussed my fee and his insurance coverage so he could make a decision about whether it would be feasible to even make an appointment with me.

It just happens that we don't accept his insurance plan at our office. When I told him my fee there was a long silence. He told me that my fee is way too much for him to pay for one hour. Kudos for his honesty--that saved us time hemming and hawing. So I gamely told him about some options where he might be able to both be scheduled immediately and for a very low fee. He seemed pleased and I hung up the phone, thoroughly irritated to have had this intrusion and sense of urgency when I'm supposed to be "off."

I would not walk up to an attorney in church and ask her to please see me immediately on a Saturday night. I would not expect a plumber to come to my house after church, after I get back from lunch and before my nap, and fix my shower that had been leaking for weeks. For free. It would never occur to me to ask a CPA to look at my financial issues unless I had money dedicated to pay his fee, whatever it might be. But since I'm a Christian, a therapist, and a woman, I'm supposed to be "on" at the whim of whomever thinks I should offer my services.

Oh my goodness...

Before this turns into a full-blown rant, I should say that this post was not conceived because of the general public's lack of awareness about how to utilize counseling services or appreciate the experience of a therapist. It is about trying so hard to be good-hearted, to have noble aims and positive ideas about how to interact with people, only to have an inner experience that doesn't correspond with what others see. Or being expected to be bigger than life when it comes to everyday things and for whatever reason, I'm not, can't be, or don't try to be.

It makes me feel not nice when this happens. Especially if it concerns a family member who expects me to be that wonderful person all the time. I'm not. I want to be 100% me when I'm with my family. I let people down and say awkward things. Very un-therapist things that just come out of my mouth because I'm not a therapist 100% of the time. Not when I'm worn out and at home, needing some emotional input for myself, too tired to do anything spectacular. At those times when my efforts to be altruistic fail, I end up feeling so decidedly not nice that I despair. It is especially hard when it is thought that other outside-the-family people get the nice Barbara and the family gets the one who doesn't come through in the way they feel I should.

An interesting study was done about spouses of therapists. It was found that they were very frustrated with the lack of communication attempts by their therapist husbands or wives. That was the greatest annoyance of spouses. As for the therapists, they repeatedly indicated that after talking with people all day long they just wanted to be left alone. This doesn't make for good relationships! But I completely understand this.

It's a not nice feeling when how I want to be doesn't match how I am on the inside. I'm disappointed in myself because I want so much to be more Christ-like regardless of what I get back or how other people behave. But it isn't always within my grasp. It seems that tonight I've taken a great swan dive into the morass of being that thing called imperfect humanity. I don't want to hurt anyone or be self-centered or intent on my needs to the exclusion of others. But here I am, swimming for all I'm worth.

I'm afraid it won't be the last dip that I take here.

He's Gone!

Sam is gone this weekend. He left at noon today to visit his girls up North. I got a call from him about 3 hours after he'd left town: "Hi Honey, I'm missing you already. I wish so much you were here with me..."
I am perfectly happy to be exactly where I am: in my own bed with Otis sleeping at my feet. I don't like the town where he is, and would feel awkward hanging around the whole visit. There are times when being alone and away from one's spouse is a good thing.
So I brought Mother over tonight to spend the weekend with me instead. She will really enjoy being out of the retirement villa, here where she has company and can help in the kitchen. In fact, she has talked up a storm since she arrived. I'm not used to it!
We went shopping this afternoon for a short while--she is not a shopper--trying to find the black pleated trousers and khaki shorts that Sam wanted. Let me tell you, he made a killing today in our shopping spree: four shirts, two pair of trousers and a pair of knock-around shorts. He sounded delighted when I told him on the phone tonight. And one navy and white suit for Mother--a suit with little pleated frim-fram all along the bottom of the skirt. She loves it. I was so pleased to get it for her.
Funny thing though, I'm the one who needs the clothes. It's just so much easier to shop for them than for me. Mother got slap-happy in the store and started giggling about something. It was nice to see her so tickled and pleased to be with me. We chatted it up this evening until my eyes started rolling back in my head.
We are going to church together tomorrow and probably up to the mountains in the afternoon. We need to escape the heat here: 105 degrees. So that is what is on the docket for us. I pray that God will be with Sam. Just now, He is with Otis, Mother and me.

Faith of Jesus--III

(Here is part of a talk I gave last Friday evening.)
Here's another aspect of the faith of Jesus. We pray and ask God to help us, to give us certain things—do certain miracles for us. The faith of Jesus tells us that God loves to give us, in response to the prayer of faith, things that he would not grant did we not ask. But even though God loves to give us things, support us, providentially provide for us, we are not the center of the universe. There is more at stake in the world and in the universe than what I want. We have to trust God to do what is right and good for the larger picture since this world is the battle ground between good and evil. Therefore, I might not get what I'd like every time, or even enough of the time to my way of thinking.
Jesus wanted certain things for His life, but He was obedient to the will of God—because He had faith that God knew more than He did and that the best would be worked out accordingly.
I was reading Hebrews 11 the other day thinking about this. The Faith chapter starts out by discussing Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham.
Then it says something interesting:

All these people were still living by faith when they died.

They did not receive the things promised;

they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance.

And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth.

People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. Hebrews 11:14-16)

Did they pray to God for leading? Yes. Did they ask for blessings—yes. And they received many of these blessings. But they still did not get the things that they were told they would receive. Yet they continued on in faith, knowing that God realized the bigger picture and that this would be sufficient.

These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect. (Hebrews 11:39, 40).
There was something bigger and greater of which they were a part and they had to trust God to work that out. They had to put their full weight on the promises of God—to know that He knows what He is doing, what is allowed to occur.
That is sometimes a bit unnerving to do.

So when Jesus was in Gethsemane begging God to remove the cup from Him, it was His faith in the fact that God knew the end from the beginning and could work it out right—for the best—with or without his prayers being answered, that He could trust God and say, “nevertheless, thy will be done.” His feelings, His fears and the humanness of His feelings at that time, did not change His knowledge that God would work everything out.

It reminds me of a wonderful anecdote:
Over in Burma, Judson was lying in a foul jail with 32 lbs. of chains on his ankles, his feet bound to a bamboo pole. A fellow prisoner said, "Dr. Judson, what about the prospect of the conversion of the heathen?", with a sneer on his face. His instant reply was, "The prospects are just as bright as the promises of God." This is the faith of Jesus. Even though things were going badly for him, the work and cause of God were advancing. God was not limited because this saint was in prison.

So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. For in just a very little while, "He who is coming will come and will not delay. But my righteous one will live by faith. And if he shrinks back, I will not be pleased with him." But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved. (Hebrews 10: 36 - 39

We serve God in our pain, fear, and confusion, even though we do not fully know what is happening. Even though it looks like God is hurting us or paying no attention to us. We know that God will hold us with a hand that will never let us go. That is the faith of Jesus.

Some years ago, on a hot summer day in South Florida, a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went. He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake an alligator was swimming toward the shore.
His father, working in the yard, noticed the boy and alligator as they moved closer and closer together. In horror, he ran toward the water, yelling to his son as loudly as he could. Hearing his voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his father.
It was too late. Just as the child reached his father, the alligator reached the boy. From the dock, the father grabbed his little son by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. An incredible tug-of-war began, between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father, but the father was much too passionate to let go. A farmer, driving by, heard the screams. He raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.
Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And on his arms were deep gouges marking the points where his father's fingernails had dug into his flesh, in his effort to hang onto the son whom he loved.The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars.The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter,
'But look at my arms; I have big scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Dad wouldn't let go….’

The faith of Jesus makes us secure in our identity—we know who we are and to whom we belong.
The faith of Jesus helps us in danger and difficult issues to leave the results with God because the faith of Jesus recognizes that we are the apple of God's eye, but still not the center of the universe, the only one in the picture. The faith of Jesus tells us that we are able to submit to circumstances that are not of our choosing and allows us to push forward so that we are not destroyed and we are saved of God. The faith of Jesus allows us to live with the pains that we have because one day we will be able to look back and point to the scars—not the scars from this life that have been painful: a lost mate, dreams that could never be realized, children that turned away from God, our physical limitations and difficult circumstances. But we will be able to look back and see all the times and places where God would not let go of us. Because we know He is holding us still.
This is the faith of Jesus.

Faith of Jesus--II

Found here

This is a picture that was very comforting to me in my childhood. Many Christians my age grew up seeing this picture. It engendered a sense of safety and reassurance as I did adolescent risky things like jumping out of the neighbor's hay mow into the straw many feet below, or learned to ride my brother's motorcycle in the field in front of our house, or spent a month without family in Poland as a 15-year old. All of these things had a little bit of fear associated with them. It was wonderful to know that my angel was always near me.

The faith of Jesus certainly involves this kind of trust in the fact that God's angels are always nearby, always faithfully watching over us, yearning to help and assist us in many more ways than we realize. Of the angels, Jesus said, "Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven" (Matthew 18:10). So Jesus did acknowledge angels.

But the faith of Jesus involves a much more comprehensive knowledge that many Christians fail to grasp. It is the trust that even in pain, loss, difficulty, even death--that God and the heavenly angels are present. That God does all things well, even with the negative turn of events. That He does not always intervene. That we are not always to be protected from pain, loss, disgrace. That pain inevitably comes to Christians, but that God is over all and interposing Himself at some level, for some reason, and in a way that we might not recognize.

Jesus "steadfastly set His face to go up to Jerusalem" (Luke 9:51). There were so many unpleasant and risky things that He had to do during His life here. He prayed about them, determined to act, put one foot in front of the other, and did them. Again, the faith of Jesus informed Him that those things which were odious and dangerous would not deter Him from obedience. So He performed them, regardless of the consequence. Jesus knew that God was trustworthy and that there was a bigger picture than the world that His human anxieties constructed. Perhaps He reasoned that the agony would be time limited, and that if others had experienced some of the pain, that it would be within the range of human endurance. But as Jesus got closer to the cross, it became a frightening specter.

I can't imagine what it would be to live my life knowing that I would die a horrible death at the end, and that my life would be cut short because of this death. What would have been worse was the realization that so much would ride on the success of this death experience. I don't know that Jesus realized that He would feel abandoned by His Father at the end. Perhaps the knowledge of that would have so discouraged Him that He could not have endured it. It was bad enough that the Son of God lay face down in the dirt in Gethsemane, crying and begging God to find some other way for this whole thing to go down rather than for Jesus to have to suffer the way He did. He was humanly quite overwhelmed--understandably so. The Bible says that His appearance--His visage--was marred "more than the children of men." Yet when no answer materialized about an alternate plan, Jesus realized that God would see Him through the worst of the worst. He then put one foot in front of the other and moved toward something horrible, trusting God to steady Him for the experience. This is the faith of Jesus. It clearly fits the context of Revelation 14, as future difficulties are predicted for God's children.

For many years I lived in terror of these predicted times--the Great Tribulation. Persecution. Deprivation and loss. Chronic fright. Words of pastors who scared us silly from the pulpit--"Think of the worst thing you can imagine. What will happen to us will be worse than that!" These words were of questionable value, as terror is not a good motivator and certainly does not encourage the faith of Jesus. I was so troubled by the mental images that were conjured up that I sought out a pastor to ask him how I might cope with this doctrine in a more constructive way. "You don't really believe that, do you?" was his response to me.

Two therapist friends have told me that they have each provided therapy to pastors who preach about the Great Tribulation, then go home and vomit and cry for the rest of the day. It is truly a fearful thing. Perhaps though, more emphasis needs to be given to the faith of Jesus rather than the strength of the devil to try and harass us. Because if I read my Bible correctly, God will hold us with a hand that will never let us go (John 10:28). Even in the hard times. Especially in the hard times.

Every one of us lives with something painful, for which there seems to be no immediate answer. We may be victims of situations that we did not bring upon ourselves. We might be coping with a serious illness and have a tenuous grasp on our health. We may be called upon to endure taunting and discrimination because of our convictions. We may suffer emotional pain deeper than our words can describe. The faith of Jesus asks God if there is some other way to move ahead--please, if it can just be blessed by Your will and goodness. But if not, we set our faces like a flint and put one foot in front of the other, relying on God for strength to perform all that is needed, for grace to conduct ourselves as lovable and gracious people, and for wisdom in order to intelligently proceed in a way that will minimize negative results and maximize positive outcomes. We throw ourselves upon the mercy, goodness, and wisdom of God, knowing that an experience in Him and through Him, is our only safety and hope.

For the Lord GOD will help me;

therefore shall I not be confounded:

therefore have I set my face like a flint,

and I know that I shall not be ashamed.

(Isaiah 50:7)

The Faith of Jesus--I

I spent some time yesterday reading my Bible and praying about what I was reading. This is one of many ways I reach for God. Something in the book of Revelation intrigued me: "Here is the patience of the saints: here are they that keep the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus." (14:12).

This is not a new verse to me--in my faith tradition, this verse has been forefront as a way to indicate that we observe Saturday Sabbath, according to the commandments. Sermons have included this, readings, and doctrines, are all based on the idea that my church observes all the commandments as they are written in Exodus 20. But taking a bit more time with the verse led me to ask, I know what the commandments are, but what exactly is the faith of Jesus?

There is no one verse in the Gospels that indicates what Jesus' faith consisted of. There are some instances though that provide insight into His faith experience. You will probably be able to add some from your own reading. I would like to share a few of my ideas over the next few posts.

The first aspect of Jesus' faith was that He trusted God to work out His life in due time, in the way it should go. We see this in the beginning of His life when He was found in the temple talking with the rabbis. His parents lost him and in the process, gained the Son of God, because after that visit in the temple His identity and mission started to become apparent to Him. "...he went down with [Mary and Joseph] and was obedient to them." Even though He was supposed to be the Messiah, He trusted that God would prompt Him at the right time to do the right thing. In the meantime, He obeyed His parents and awaited the call of God to do the next thing. "And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and man." Luke 2:52.

It must have seemed strange to hold the knowledge of having a unique position in the history of the world and the universe and yet to go to a wood shop every day and build cupboards and chairs. There was nothing terribly special about being a carpenter. The Bible is silent about this period of Jesus' life, even though the Apocrypha has some interesting and sometimes fanciful tales about Jesus' magical powers during that time. But these are out of character with the One who emerged later on from the carpenter shop, and who did not perform celestial fireworks for the sake of showmanship. I imagine that He worked hard, did well at His work, was kind to others, endured the scathing comments about being the illegitimate son of Mary. He probably read the scriptures frequently, because in His later years He seemed to know them backward and forward. Perhaps He sometimes wondered why He was to remain in a carpenter shop for His early life. Who would believe He was the Son of God, coming from that kind of beginning? Why not go to the Hebrew schools and learn like a respectable young man? Not only that, but it is commonly thought that His family was quite poor. Jesus' job was not to make the family rich by some divine sleight of hand. It was to work to support the family as any young man of that time would--by honest work. And during this time, God was preparing Him by growing His faith. Jesus contributed to this growth no doubt, through prayer and scripture study, mulling over things in His mind as He worked.

Later, when called into the wilderness to face off with the devil, Jesus was first tempted regarding His identity. "If you are the Son of God..." This was the undercurrent of all the temptations. Prove to me who you are because you neither look like it or seem like it. That is often how it is because God's way is not how we expect things to be. There was Jesus, low blood sugar, faint with hunger, dehydrated, hot and miserable out in the desert. There was nothing about Him that looked divine at that point. But He knew who He was and did not cave in from doubt because He realized that appearances did not reflect the larger picture. All of the context was not evident to the casual observer, who was conditioned by the attitudes of the world. The devil knew that and hoped that Jesus would succumb to the suggestibility around this issue, but He did not.

So perhaps one aspect of the faith of Jesus is that He was clear about His identity. He knew God and the scriptures--both of which clarified to Him what His relationship was with God and humanity. There was no prevarication on His part.

This brings me to the take-home point of this post: Do I know who I am? From scripture and experience with God, do I have a sense of that? Do I understand my role and my duty, and am I performing these? Are my ideas about myself found in scripture? Not in some narcissistic way that would mistakenly give me an inflated sense of mission such as a David Koresh would have. But just about who I am as a human? That it is God who directs my steps and gives me purpose? That although there were many years in which I seemed to wander aimlessly, God is over all and that I live for Him? That those disappointing individuals of the past will be dealt with by God--it is not my role to vindicate myself?
It is a rare person who can look you in the eye and say who they are, what they are about, and why they do what they do--with conviction. Even when their lives appear to be awkward, or without focus, marked by misfortune and lapses in judgment, or detours and roadblocks to their goals. We do not have the whole story, and they might not, either. Perhaps in the larger context, they are living exactly as they should, given their experience and God's plan for their lives. Perhaps they are "as a brand plucked from the burning" and are trying to "redeem the time" that was lost earlier.

I am talking about myself here, not some unfortunate soul for whom we have been taught to feel pity. We all wander, question ourselves, seek after God, do the best we can to determine His will for our lives and then seek to pursue it. So maybe having the faith of Jesus means in part, that we recognize Him in all things, rely on Him to reveal His leading to us, knowing that He will always be with us. He will define us, create our identity--all within a larger context that only He knows. The faith of Jesus frames the belief that we do not always have to understand or know what our role is on this earth. We are not little Messiahs. We are humans who are seeking God and trusting Him to create meaning out of the things that we do the best we can to honor Him. The faith of Jesus tells us that God will bring meaning, vindication, direction and purpose to our lives.

I have set the Lord always before me;

because He is at my right hand,

I shall not be moved.

Psalm 16:8.

The Photographer

My brother has always done photography as a hobby. Ever since I can remember he has been shooting pictures of people, animals, and his favorite--flowers.

Here are some pictures of him getting the best angle for his photos.

My brother owns a 20-acre piece of property in Tennessee where he's built his own beautiful home. He has been feeding "his" raccoons now for 10 years or more. It all started with Sally, an injured female raccoon that he fed on his porch until she was well. Then winter came and she wasn't seen. He thought something had happened to her. But in the spring, here came Sally up onto the porch with several little babies, all eager to see what this human would give them. He gave them sunflower seeds and kitchen scraps then, and for the next several years. Their great-grandraccoons are now benefitting from this ongoing relationship. Brother has gotten lots of wonderful photos of these little creatures peering into his livingroom windows, trying to let him know that they want to be fed.

Incidentally, the way they say hello is to wag their head back and forth. So this is what they do when they peer in the window. Brother wags his head back and forth just like they do and everyone is happy.

Brother loves the water and wildlife that frequent the river.

Here he is getting set up.

And here is a sample of his work.

This is his little grand-neice at her swimming competition.

I love this picture. It is worth all the positioning, tripod, and angles.

He loves what he does.

I'm proud of him.

Whose loss?

I ran into the market on Thursday between appointments. My hair appointment was due in 10 minutes and it seemed a good idea to pick up a sandwich, since I hadn't eaten for 8 hours. As I scurried down the first aisle, Irma came meandering toward me. I had not had contact with her for about a year, since I sent her a condolence card on the death of her husband. She is in her 70s and works in the campus building next to my office.
"Oh Barbara, I must tell you how hard it is to be without my husband." She is Eastern European and has a very direct way of opening conversations.
"No one understands how hard it is." She continued without waiting for my response. "After 45 years together, he is gone and I can hardly believe it! I talk to him all the time in my house but he is not there and I realize it and I'm shocked all over again."
I nodded.
"Now, I'm alone all the time. And I'm so lonely."
That sounded familiar.
"You have no idea what it is to be alone for my holidays, going to church alone, and making all the big decisions alone, too." Her eyes searched my face.

Indeed, I do know what that experience is like, with the exception of missing someone who was there. I, and a number of single friends, have lived this for years--more than most widows will ever be called upon to endure.

"I have sons, but no daughter to talk to about this. My son is a good boy and he tries to understand but he doesn't."
I reached for her and hugged her to me. "You can talk to me, then!"
She smiled blankly and kept on. "Do you know what it is to feel stigmatized--a "widow?" An awful name and I don't like the word. I would have come to hear you speak at the Widow's Luncheon last year but I didn't want to be labeled a widow."

I had spoken to about 60 women in our church last year, all who had lost their husbands. One man from Romania showed up because didn't know that he was a widower, not a widow.
"You know," she continued, moving close enough to my face so I could smell her denture adhesive, "I feel sick if someone tells me that I am young enough to find someone else. When you lose someone you love, you don't want to try again. I had a gift from God for 45 years and no one can compare."

My heart felt as though it was sinking into my boots.

Irma went on and on--for 15 minutes. I indulged her because I like her, but I didn't get a sandwich and I was late for my haircut. I also marveled that while I was single for so many years there seemed to be very little concern for the fact that my holidays were often spent alone, or that I had to be proactive in order to avoid being alone for church, leisure activities, meals, Friday nights, ad infinitum. In fact, I was the butt of numerous jokes in private and public because I was single. People placed bets on whether or not I'd ever marry and when I did send out announcements, two people thought it was an April Fool's joke. My own father told my mother that he had given up on me "ever attracting a man." That stung because in my father's mind and in his generation, a woman who isn't married is truly less desirable. It just isn't good.

Walking around like a sad sack while I was single was something that I tried not to do. I wasn't sad all the time, nor was being single such a horrible thing. But there were aspects to it that were extremely painful, one being the aloneness issue. Not necessarily lonely, but I did get sick of being alone. I talked about it from time to time with people who would listen or who inquired, but what can you say after years of saying the same thing and having the same experience? So I tried to keep quiet about any issues I had about being single--at least, with some people who didn't want to hear about it.

Irma's words irked and surprised me in a way. Actually, in the same way my mother's words in recent years have annoyed me. Now that they are widows, they want and expect condolences and support--a level of understanding and empathy that they did not have toward me as a single woman for years and years. Part of me wants to shout, "See! How do you like it now?!" And yet their loss is a more keen, acute loss than anything I've experienced. But my losses were different in quality and chronicity than anything they have. Both are extremely trying, perhaps for different reasons. It would be nice if both kinds of losses received the warm, attentive, caring responses that are needed.

There is a hidden loss and grief that lifelong single people have. They may be happy and fulfilled people with good jobs, a strong sense of purpose in life, and satisfying social networks. They may have come to terms with being single, not having children, being sometimes quite marginalized. But if you dig deep enough, there is a kernal of pain that is not recognized by society. It is about a global sense of rejection and undesirability, loss about childbearing, and an attempt to avoid asking that awful question, "What's a nice person like me doing single?" It is about all the hopes that have been dashed, all the ups and downs as we waited to see what relationship might develop with this or that one. It's being accused of being "too picky" but when we try to stay open-minded and give a chance to certain men because something may be workable, we are teased for "scraping the bottom of the barrel." It's being treated badly by socially awkward men who are looking for someone to take care of them; it's being chased by desirable married men and having to muster the gumption to rebuff them, even though they seem to be able to see and appreciate the qualities that available single men completely miss. It's questioning whether we did too much, too little, something dorky that turned him off from us, whether we were too set in our ways, spoke too freely about ourselves and our ideas, are too educated and thus intimidating, and the continual knowledge that some people had written us off as unmarriageable. It's about loving the fact that as a single person you can lie in bed until 4:00 in the afternoon if you feel like it, but that even this freedom can be described as "self-centered" and "irresponsible" because you don't have husband or children to put first. It's about hearing prayers in church for the children, parents, and elderly--and waiting to hear how the prayer can be applicable to me.

I saw that and heard this hidden sadness in a workshop I gave at a national single's conference yesterday. It was mostly women listening to me, ranging in age from about 30 - 70. The tears and comments that came from well established professional women about how they sometimes feel left out, invisible, undesirable, misunderstood--this was heartwrenching. It just struck too close to home, and I remembered so much, so many instances...

About a year ago, our pastor gave a wonderful sermon on the values and gifts that single people give a congregation. I had been bracing myself for a pulpit tirade such as the (horrendous) one I heard in the Midwest, charging single women with "not needing a man" because of militant feminist ideas that were "against nature and against God," and citing that misunderstood and misquoted statistic that a woman over 40 years of age has a greater change of being hijacked by terrorists than getting married. I remember sitting in that congregation with two other single women, all of us with eyes widened by shock as the pastor maligned and impugned our lives, our motivation, and then parrodied us. I did not believe that I had done anything "wrong" that had caused me to be single, and none of his descriptions of single women fit me. Or any of the others, for that matter. In fact, my life was the happiest it had ever been and I really had enjoyed being part of the church and community there--good friends, great academic experience, some good social outlets, etc. Apparently, we three single women were a burr under the pastor's saddle for some reason. Many in the congregation were mortified by his remarks.

So I was unsure what my pastor would come up with. Simply put, his sermon was incredibly healing. It affirmed my value as a single woman all those years. He clearly stated that we serve the church in such creative and useful ways, due to having a greater liberty than some of our married friends. And he pointed out that Jesus was single, and that we have an obligation to include single people in the life of the church in much more intentional ways. I heaved a sigh of relief and thanks to God as he offered the final congregational blessing. I had hoped to hear a sermon like this for 25 years and was thrilled to finally hear something useful, accurate, theologically supported, and helpful.

During the postlude I hopped up from my seat and started over to thank the pastor for his sermon. As I stood up, without warning tears began rolling down my cheeks and I got a huge lump in my throat. I doubt I could have even spoken. So I sat back down and had a good cry, right there in the pew. It was shocking to me that even being happily married and content with my life, that such pain and loss still remained inside of me about some difficult life circumstances, losses, and challenging years.

That same discomfort tapped me on the shoulder yesterday once again as I looked into faces of capable, bright people, some who looked lost, confused, and others who looked pained at times.
It wasn't always easy to be single.

So as I looked into Irma's face, I wondered if she would even get it if she could be told about the numerous experiences that I and my friends went through for over 20 years as single adults. She is still grieving the loss of a dear, sweet husband, so this is not the time to even try to move in that direction of conversation. I understand that losing a loved one is painful--wordlessly awful, beyond comprehension.
But so is the loss of dreams, hope, and social status.

Single people do not want to be pitied.
Just understood and supported.