Solitude

Recently, in a small group at my church we were discussing belonging in general and belonging to God specifically. The question was raised about where we felt most strongly that sense of belonging or closeness to God. As I pondered the question, others offered their responses. As is usually the case in these sorts of situations, I said nothing. This is partly because it is not in my nature to speak in groups like this but mostly because I was still trying to figure out the answer.

The question hung with me after the group dismissed. Back home, I settled onto the couch and mulled it over some more. I thought at first it was nature - I recalled how I felt on our vacation to Yellowstone this past summer. Or maybe it was family - last week, I came home from work and my youngest son ran across the room and leaped into my arms. He's thirteen now, and the force almost knocked me down ala Fred Flintstone getting greeted by Dino. Still, in that moment of embrace, God was surely there.

Speaking of our Yellowstone vacation, we spent most nights in hotels just outside the park. As an early riser, this meant I had my share of mornings waiting for the rest of the crew to awake and get dressed so we could be on our way. For the most part, I'm okay with this because I don't mind a little alone time, especially in the morning. We did have one wonderful night staying in a cabin in the park next to Old Faithful. It wasn't wonderful because of the cabin. It was a little too small for the four of us - I ended up sleeping on the floor. No, it was wonderful because in the morning I could get up and walk in the park while the others slept.

Our cabin was near Old Faithful so I naturally started my walk in that direction. As I approached the geyser, I took the boardwalk around to the far side. I had my camera with me and I found a spot where I could get a decent shot the next time it blew. For the time being, I turned my back on Old Faithful and gazed across a field of other geysers connected by boardwalks. The air was cool and trickles of steam rose from various places in the distance. Other than a couple of joggers, the boardwalks were empty. It was quiet. It was spectacular.

As I stood there doing absolutely nothing, I gradually became aware of more people around me. I turned around to find that Old Faithful was almost due to erupt. I dutifully, readied my camera and took too many pictures of it. Even as I was watching the water and steam shoot into the sky a part of me was secretly wishing it would finish already so all the people would go away and I could return to my quiet. Alas, the morning was getting late and I realized any chances of solitude were gone.

Solitude. For me, God is there in solitude. As an introvert, I've always appreciated the restorative power of a little alone time, but I think this is something deeper. I probably get up an hour earlier than I really need to every day during the work week. That extra hour is spent with a cup of coffee and the newspaper. Or, if the paper isn't there yet, just a cup of coffee and my thoughts. In some ways this "me time" is probably as important as the previous night's sleep in preparing me for the day ahead. But, I also get up early on Saturday mornings. On Saturdays, I take my coffee to the back porch where I watch the morning light sneak across my lawn, turning night to day. I can easily spend an hour or more doing absolutely nothing but being in that moment. This feels more than regenerative. It's more like communion as a sense of peace and belonging pervades my consciousness.

So, I guess I have my answer. I still won't probably offer it up in a group, but I guess that's what this blog is for.