“You are not alone,” he said. “Do you know that?”
I scoffed. Of course I am not alone. I live with thirteen other people.
I continued folding clothes.
“You are not alone,” he said again. “Do you know that?”
I sighed and went downstairs.
Later that evening, Robin tells me there is a song she thinks I would really love.
What’s it called? I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
“It’s called ‘You Are Not Alone’ by Kate Hurley.”
She plays another chord on her guitar.
Ah. I raise my eyebrows slowly. I’ll have to check it out.
I find the song and I play it.
As I listen, I wear goosebumps like a sweater,
the words echoing through the hallways of this dusty heart.
Because the truth is this: I came here in pieces.
I arrived in this city with much more than just two pieces of checked luggage.
Many days, I have felt alone–even in a house with thirteen friendly people.
But I am finding something marvelous.
None of us have it all together. Not even remotely.
And that’s perfectly all right. It’s a part of the process.
Through it, I am gently reminded of perhaps the most important truth:
When he said he would be with us always, he meant in the mess, too.
Here is what I hear the Father saying:
You are not alone in your pain.
And you are not alone in your doubt.
Bring your questions.
Bring your brokenness.
Bring every last piece of you.
I am not afraid of the mess.
I am not offended by it, not angry at it, not ashamed of it.
I am big enough to carry it.
You have permission to be where you are.
I am not leaving you.
And I am not waiting for you to come with all your stuff figured out.
I am just waiting for you to come.
I am not interested in what you think I want you to be…
I just want you.
My love is big enough. Come and see.