I don’t know why I even noticed. But at the stop sign I happened to look up and there he was. Hundreds of black bird were lined up on the high-wire like the popular art images sold in stores.
All alone on the lower wire, he sat, a mirror image of the others.
My imagination raced. Was he being shunned? Was he the “new guy”? Was he so late that there was no room on the preferred wire?
When I was young I hated going places alone, wondering if they were looking at me. Did they notice I was by myself? Did they feel sorry for me? Did they question what my story was?
As I’m older I’ve come to realize they probably didn’t give me a second thought, a second glance. Too busy and wrapped up in their own lives, their own dramas, their own joys and miseries.
I fly solo a lot and have become accustomed to fending for myself, figuring flights out, and becoming self-sufficient. During these travels, I hide behind a good book or magazine when I eat out.
But there is one thing I still have a problem doing by myself— going to the movies alone.
My son does it often.
I have friends who do it.
I have done it exactly one time.
In California a couple years ago, my kids wanted to see a semi-scary movie. I despise scary movies. I haven’t seen one since college. Some guy took me to see The Omen and I was so horrified I never went out with him again.
Needless to say, I was less than thrilled. Then they discovered there was a chick-flick showing at the same time and kindly suggested that I go see it. Gratefully, I agreed.
I entered the semi-darkened theater, armed with popcorn, looking for that perfect seat. Only about one third full, I slid in towards the back, anything to divert attention from my solitary lot. Like anyone cared.
The funny thing—I immediately began counting how many people were alone. Was it only me? Nope, there’s one, there’s another , there’s a third— oh no, he’s not alone, here comes his wife.
It must be an extravert thing, thinking I need people with me when I go out for entertainment. But to me, it’s just a lot more fun.
Like the bird on a wire. Alone but not alone.
And I know my uncomfortableness is just a trivial thing. What really matters is that God is always there. Others will leave me stranded on a wire alone and fail me, but he is steadfast.
Like the old story goes— but sometimes I just want someone with skin on.
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Ecclesiastes 4:11 Also if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?
-God knows people are important in our lives. He created us to need and serve each other. Who do you surround yourself with when you need companionship?
-Make a point to reach out to someone this week who is alone.