One year, a friend generously gave me a Christmas gift of imported chocolate. It was an extravagant and generous gift, and I was so happy until I turned it over and discovered it was orange-flavoured chocolate. Ugh! I have never been able to handle the taste of candied peel, and I knew this chocolate would taste just like that. I quickly covered my disappointment, thanked my friend, and went home, wondering to whom I could quietly regift the chocolate.
We all have situations in our lives that feel like unwelcome gifts; another one of mine has been my singleness.
I never imagined being single in my late 50s. Like most little girls, I imagined a loving relationship with a husband and some kids to raise and a noisy, people-filled life.
But early into my adulthood, I visited South Asia and fell in love with a vibrant, loud, colourful land filled with more people than I could possibly imagine. The problem was that this dream, in many ways, excluded my earlier dream.
Initially, I eagerly looked about for a man to share my journey (after all, it wasn't wise to go alone), but after a decade of looking and a few moments of hope that were dashed, I realised that I couldn't wait any longer. I convinced myself that if I obeyed, there would surely be someone for me. After all, marriage is a good thing. So I settled into my adopted land and found that at 33, I was already too old. Few men my age were unmarried, and those who were had already chosen not to marry.
I settled into my new life and learned to hide the tears when well-meaning friends and colleagues would ask, "When are you getting married?" I would remind them that there are no believing men my age to marry so what can I do. Some even went as far as telling me to go home and find a husband. For a while, it seemed that all that mattered to people was my marital status. Auto and taxi drivers, colleagues and even government officials asked, "Why are you not married?" as if something was wrong with me.
As time went by, my life got more and more isolated. Married friends were busy with family and had minimal space for me; single friends were increasingly years and even decades younger than me, with different priorities and availability. In response, I threw myself into work, seeking to fill the quiet space and quell my loneliness. But in the quiet moments, I questioned God, asking, "What is wrong with me?" He answered, reminding me that I am loved, chosen, and immensely valuable to Him. The problem was that the world around me constantly told me my singleness was my fault. On more than one occasion, married friends apologised for not inviting me to their homes as their "husband would have no one to talk to" if I came for a meal.
I often thought to myself, "It will get better when my friends' kids are older, as then they will have more time." But as kids went from toddlers to teenagers and then onto marriage and families of their own, my friends stayed busy, and I remained isolated.
When I raised the issue, I was told I must have the "gift of singleness," as if that solved all my struggles. I railed at God, complaining about this gift I never asked for. I desperately wanted to return it. Other friends told me, "Be content, and then God will provide—it is your discontent that is the problem." But try as I might, the restless discontent in my heart remained.
Then, the world locked down, and my isolation became the pattern of the world, except that most people were isolated with their families, not apart from them. My isolation stretched from days to weeks to months and then to years. Miraculously, I coped. I learned to rely on God in ways I hadn't before, to pour out my heart in lament and pivot to praise, and to recognise the gift of solitude and silence.
But still, my heart cried out, "Why am I the one who is alone? Why have you not answered this quarter-century of prayer? Why, when you clearly made me an extrovert, a person who wants connections with others, have you given me a life that includes so much isolation?"
In the last couple of years, God has been leading me to change the way I respond to challenges. Instead of asking "Why?" He has been prompting me to look for the invitation He is offering.
Recently as I reflected on the words of early 20th Century German pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "Whoever cannot be alone should beware of community. Whoever cannot stand being in community should beware of being alone." and I heard God whisper "Your isolation is for your health." Bonhoeffer explains that we need both solitude and community, and it is dangerous to avoid either one (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together and Prayer Book of the Bible, page 87).
For years I have seen my singleness, my isolation, and God's "failure" to answer my prayer as a limitation, as proof that I wasn't enough, that I had to grow more, be more, and do more. But what if it isn't? What if my isolation is an invitation to the solitude that my extroverted people-loving soul needs. What if God saw that I could so easily burn myself out on relationships and was protecting me? What if God who knows me better than I know myself knew that solitude was what I needed to be healthy? What if the gift I didn't want was in fact the grace that enables me to become the person God designed me to be?
I still fight the isolation, and I still need to learn to accept the invitation to solitude that God is holding out to me. I have a lifetime of habitual responses to be relearned, but I am beginning to see the opportunity that my isolation gives me to be present with God, to be shaped and formed to be like Jesus. None of this is easy, but God is persistent in inviting me to find my rest in Him.
Is there a gift, a grace (after all they are the same Greek word - Charis) that you are refusing to accept? What would it mean to open your heart and look for what is good in the gift? What invitation from God are you refusing to open? What could be waiting for you if you receive the "unwelcome" gift from a loving Father who knows you well and longs for you to accept His better way of living?
Photo by Ben White on Unsplash
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Wow wow wow.. what a beautiful word of encouragement. And with what amazing courage you have written this insightful post. Thank you for sharing this.. it’s healed some wounds I’m struggling with.