During my one-and-only-thank-goodness year of college, I dreaded sitting at tables alone in the busy cafeteria.
Oh, sitting by myself felt fine to me, welcomed, even, but what I hated? Believing fellow students were staring and pitying me for my aloneness.
Ack.
Always I carried a book with me both because I adored reading while eating and so I could avoid any sad glances at Lonely Little Loser Girl (as if anyone even noticed mousy me anyway).
I am beyond-words grateful that those days are gone! Now? I travel myriad places by myself and think nothing of appearing alone. Because I'm so not.
In fact, two weekends ago I traveled half-awake one morning to Tim Horton's and my table felt crowded. There was me, my decaf cafe mocha and bagel, my Bailey White library book, a sweet contentment and best of all, Jesus. Anyone glancing at me probably just spied an aging, greying mousy me, but alas, our eyes miss so much when we gaze only upon the surface.
How marvelous to sit by myself, to spend my so-vital daily quiet time this way. To meditate, pray and number my blessings and to relish not having anyone pulling, whisking me away to distraction. To lazily scribble lists of things to do and then tuck those lists away for their appropriate time.
How amazing to feel that you matter, even alone.
If Tom is working or just prefers to stay home after working all week? I can still drive to the river or the movies alone-but-not-alone. I can grab my purse, a book, and hop into the car feeling grateful that I didn't (like in the old days) nag Tom or throw a fit just because we wanted to do different things.
There is a Friend who sticks closer than a brother and what a glorious day it was when He became more real to me than any friend or husband, even. Especially more real than anyone sitting cluelessly nearby, believing I stepped between the doors by myself.
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