The Unseen

I am entering into a season of loneliness in my life, again.  I’ve often reflected that loneliness is a surprising and fairly constant companion in this vocation; surprising, because my motherhood not only has me constantly surrounded by kids, but also in contact with other parents as the lives of our children cross paths, and constant, because just as it seems to me I am passing through it, lo and behold I find it has once again crept in.  Under a new disguise, but always there, always the same.




These days what really seems to cause it in my life are a few different circumstances. Firstly, I have been aware that we are entering another season of isolation as a family. When my husband and I first got married and moved out of the city we experienced this (I’ve written about it many times), and following those years there were blessed merciful years of abundance. I foolishly came to think this was the new normal, and thank God.  And yet it seems that this abundance was itself a season, that for now is passing.  I have been recognizing this and trying to come to terms with it, hoping that the life I’ve lived to now has taught me not to seek consolation from my immediate surroundings. That my longing for the beautiful around me reminds me that what I really seek is not something this world can provide.  The first time around those days were dark, but this time I feel Christ close to me, understanding that He answered my prayer before, and He has a reason for leading me here again.



The other contributing factor, and one that is not so easy to come to terms with for me, is this feeling of being invisible. Don’t get me wrong, I know when I go anywhere, people definitely “see” me and my brood.  I know we are loud, we are big, we are surprising, and we are beautiful.  People comment all the time, say hello, marvel at how many kids there are and draw conclusions about me that may or may not be true. People are drawn to our family, and I have long been aware that people want to be friends with us often for our family as a whole, and for the kids, and I love that so much.  But in the middle of it all, often I feel unseen as a person.  Not known, not having any real opportunity for connection on a personal level.



 As my life gets bigger and bigger, I feel like I am being stripped more of myself.  The climax for me came a few weeks ago when some dear friends were visiting from away. I always anticipate with great joy the company of these friends, as I can usually count on one moment where everyone is together, talking about what God is doing in our lives.  We are all reading the same work currently, a work that has been pretty profound for me, and I was looking forward to speaking with others who were reading the same things, and sharing with them. But that moment never came this time. I had to miss out on a few things to take care of small children or tend to bigger ones, and the one evening we had together here ended up being cut short.   They left and went home, and I remained with the feeling that what I wanted so badly to share was still resting inside. It definitely inspires loneliness on a paramount level.



I don’t know what the solution is. I suspect it is not something to be solved, but rather journeyed into.  I don’t know why Jesus has once again given me this cross to bear, but I do know that consolation precedes suffering, and is meant to help us live the latter with Him. I also am profoundly aware that not being able to share my life in words with people at this moment does not take away all that Jesus is doing for me.  In fact, I think in a large part what He has done has so much to do with this isolation, and this loneliness.  Because if my longing could be satisfied by human interactions, I would be tempted to stop there.  For a time, that was necessary, and He gave me some beautiful people to journey with. But now, I feel like my road has taken a different turn, a path He wants me to walk with Him alone.  For how long, only He knows, but while I am here, I want to make the best of my time with Him.


A dear friend of mine shared after our recent friends had departed, that in a conversation with him about me, he saw me very clearly. She said he articulated things about me to her that revealed that he had a very true and real vision of me as a person, and this was so affirming to me. Because even though I didn’t have an opportunity to share my heart as I had hoped, even at times when it seems I am around people all the time but have little time to speak about anything, even when I feel like nobody sees me, people do.  I am not invisible, not to my family, not to my friends, and most especially, not to Christ. I am just on a more secluded part of the road.


I pray for the grace to keep putting one foot in front of the other, confident that even when I don’t see or feel it, that I am seen, known and loved, by the ones who love me in this world, and by the One who gives me life and sustains my hope for the next one.