You Are Not Alone.

Yes, yes I am.



We had a great Sunday at Fairview this morning, and this post doesn't reflect on that at all. Lovely small group meeting, great music, good sermon. It's not that.



It's just that when I sit down, look at the bulletin, and see the sermon title "You Are Not Alone" I kind of want to slip back out again.



I am a believer. In all the senses of that word and with all that goes with it. I do believe that God is a constant companion, an ever-present power that brings order to this out of control world, that loves me in spite of how truly unlovable I am most of the time, and intends good for me. But, in this world, sometimes I am alone.



I've been thinking about that quite a bit more than usual, because the truth is, I actually LIKE being alone and have much less trouble with it than most people I know. So, I believe that the fact that it's weighing on me more than usual has to do with the season, the time, the year, and circumstances.



I've been on my own for ten years. In November, I would have celebrated by 30th wedding anniversary. My kids are wonderfully, happily moving out into their own paths with energy and excitement. I have a job that I like a lot, but drains me almost completely every week. And it's freakin' fall, after a too short summer without enough sun to sustain my spirit.



So, I'm guilty of some self-indulgence, maybe even self-pity, which I think is so ugly. I won't stay here long, I don't think, but seeing a sermon titled "You Are Not Alone" -- just didn't bring out my best thoughts today.



I've thought a lot lately about the Garden of Eden, for several reasons, and whether we think it's real or an allegory, the fact remains that with all that beauty, with the ability to walk and talk with God, with a full plate of duties like naming things, God thought Adam shouldn't be alone. And He didn't give him a support group, Facebook friends, a business network, or a church family. He gave him a partner. A soul-mate. One person to share the garden with. Admittedly, Adam might have been better off without her, but we can surmise that something in Adam's spiritual and physical DNA had a need for a partner. God saw it, created it, really, and then filled it.



So, while it may be self-indulgent to once in awhile want to say, loudly, "Yes, yes I am alone" I think it comes from a real place, a real need, a real component of the human psyche.



I take responsibility for being alone because I own it in many ways. And I could change it and maybe I'll work toward changing it if it continues to feel like the wrong place to be. But sometimes, days like today, maybe all I really need is the affirmation that, even with a loving, compassionate God to walk with me, yes, yes I am alone.

No socks.

So there was frost all over everything this morning. Thick, white, sparkly, ugly frost. It was 34 degrees outside and dark when I went to work. I wore a turtleneck and a wool jacket . . . and no socks.

My house was cold when I woke up, but I am so not turning on that heat. I got dressed shivering a little (the fact that I drink a freezing cold Diet Coke every morning while I get dressed is beside the point) and picked out appropriate clothes. You know, layers because it would be getting a little warmer, and so on.

But I did not put on socks. Or panty hose. Bare legs in my slacks, bare ankles sticking out, bare feet in my shoes -- a last kicking and screaming, although silent, sign that I am not ready to let summer go.

I am a sun worshipper in the truest sense. My neighbors probably think I'm nuts, but I really do go stand outside with my face turned up and my arms spread out, and I soak it up on sunny days. I drive with the top down on my car when it's as cool as 58, so long as the sun is shining. After two or three gray days, I'm pricing tickets to South Beach. I cannot live without the sun. So why, since I am a grown-up and could live anywhere I want, am I here, in the Midwest where there's frost on October 1? (Oh, that's a whole other story.)

I have been unhappy about this approaching season change, although I really do like autumn, because we got cheated out of a good summer. Too short, not hot enough, not enough really really sunny days. I had to take long car trips to southern places to get enough sun. And now the days are getting shorter and I'm already checking out Expedia, Kayak, and Travelocity.

I'm checking out my wardrobe, knowing that I'll need to do a little shopping for some appropriate "fall" professional clothes. I'm looking at pumpkins and mums and transplanting some hostas. There are some good things, I guess.

But I am NOT wearing socks. For awhile, anyway.

PS - Thank you, Ashley, for the nudge I needed to blog again.

Autumn.

So . . . after the hacking incident I changed a bunch of my passwords and then for some reason, couldn't get into my own blog!

Haven't had much to blog about, except the disappointing arrival of fall. I love fall, but we have NOT had enough summer for it to be fall. I just feel cheated somehow.

I do love the change of seasons, but it seems like each year, winter is something to dread a little more.

Here's to a long warm autumn.

Hacked.

I usually check my Facebook page at least a couple times during the work day. I like Facebook and I sort of feel like I'm touching base with friends when I check on it during the day.

Today I was pretty busy and only checked once this morning.

I worked late and then had to go back to the office as soon as I got home (idiot.). So it was really late when I finally settled in to check personal email, facebook, blogs, all that good stuff.

When I pulled up my facebook page I was totally stunned at a gross posting. My name, my picture - totally not my words. Not any words I would post anywhere.

I deleted it and posted a note that I'd been hacked. But it is such a weird feeling to think that for awhile, at least, people were wondering WTH was up with me. I hope people knew that something was clearly out of whack, but I'm not sure. NOW if I saw something totally out of character for one of my friends, I'd figure what was up, but I'm not sure what I would have thought before tonight.

I changed passwords on all my accounts everywhere, or at least everything that came to mind, but have to wonder what the fun is in posting something to somebody else's identity. I just don't get that at all.

I feel kind of weird tonight.

It reminds me of the time, a long time ago, when our house was broken into, when we lived in Kentucky, and whoever broke in only took my things, nothing of my husband's. And only personal things. And I was plenty freaked for a very long time. For weeks afterward, I would discover something else missing - a bracelet that had been in the back of a drawer, a pair of shoes, a sweater. Just about the time I'd start to settle down, I look for something else, something small, and find it missing. It was awful. But I got over it. Stopped looking for things, stopped thinking everything I couldn't find was a "stolen" object, stopped holding my breath when we came home from being gone for any length of time. I put it in perspective. Just stuff. Just someone messing with me.

A facebook hacking is a tiny thing.

And I'm so aware, especially tonight, that in light of all that ways that somebody's privacy and dignity and humanity can be violated, this is nothing at all.

New neighbors.

The house behind me in my typical beige subdivision changed owners last week and it's kind of weird to notice the subtle changes in the way people live and how that effects me.

I'm a really terrible neighbor - I leave for work early in the morning, I'm dead tired at night and sort of pull in the garage and quickly shut the door. I see people walking through the neighborhood in the late evening - while I'm inside on the treadmill. I head to the big city on the "neighborhood garage sale" day so I don't have to deal with it. I've lived in this neighborhood for four years, and I pay my association dues right on time, but have never been to a meeting. I just am not very engaged.

So it's surprised me to notice so much about "my backyard butts up against your back yard" neighbors.

The previous owners had a beautiful Weimaraner that they let out every morning around 5:00. They'd turn on their really bright back yard lights, which would shine in my bathroom and through to my bedroom. That's about the time I get up, and I would judge if it was time to really get out of bed by whether or not their yard lights were on for the dog. I think the new people have a fussy white poodle. He/she stands at their patio door and barks.

The old neighbors ate outside almost every nice evening. He'd grill and then they'd sit on the patio. Which kind of looks right over to my patio. So I developed the pattern of not going out while they were eating, even though our yards are pretty big and it wasn't like I was sitting at their table. I just felt like I was intruding.

And I got in the habit of turning my music down while they were outside. I can't imagine that they could actually hear that stuff I play so loud in my house, but I have French doors out to the back that let in cold air in the winter, so I'm guessing they let out sound (Got to replace those, she says for the fourth year).

The new people don't sit out at all. And I've found that I'm going out more at times that I used to stay in.

The old neighbor husband always waved when I drove by, she never did. My car is recognizable so most neighbors realize I live there, even if I'm not super neighbor. The new neighbors don't wave yet, so I wave first. Really reaching out there.

It's so weird. I didn't really know the old neighbors - enough to recognize them when I saw them at the store or whatever, but that's all - and I don't know the new ones. Yet I adjust my patterns around them.

Sometimes my own anti-social tendencies in my private life astound me. All that work to, I think, just to be alone.