Meal for One

A meal for one. Feels familiar.

As the wickedly beautiful love story of We Live In Time unfolded before me a feeling of longing was unearthed again. One I had put away for some time, that had bubbled up on wedding days and got caught in doorways of engagements but was generally put away. It had mosied back, welcomed without warning. The longing for love… whatever that is.

You see, I, although temperamental, am generally quite happy to be endeavoring alone. Life’s easier that way, that’s for sure. To run all risks and dream all dreams independently makes one feel weightless.

That is, until you are graduating in 6 months, and one of your deepest desires is to love a like-minded person.

To believe the lie that to graduate without that is to have nothing to show for these four years is surprisely easy. I really, truly, had thought I had reached a point of satisfaction with self-governance, reliance on no one, and general freedom (more on that later).

But even I am not immune from these accusations. I am so quick to believe that I am, day by day, being nudged closer and closer to eternal singleness. And I am wildly confident that I am not the only one feeling that weight.

I talk about these fears of mine often, typically in joking fashion. Because to say I’m afraid of an “eternal meal for one” is strangely morbid and definitely dramatic and not what the average conversation calls for. But just because I can’t really vocalize these fears doesn’t make them less real. They are so real so often. Meals are better shared.

But as I sit alone in my room tonight, enjoying my records and the candlelight, I’m strangely comforted. Alone isn’t so bad after all.

We observe so much when alone. How we actually feel. What we actually want to say. What questions we really have about life, about ourselves, about God. About the people around us. We sink deeper in to burst further. It’s incredibly beautiful and, important to note, somewhat dangerous when done for selfish gain.

And that is what I have been learning. The hard way. To combat questions with self-reliance is to forget how we were made. To sink deeper into self-obsession is to burst further in broken relationship. All the things we learn through aloneness can be weaponized if we aren’t careful.

But to be alone in communion, now that’s a different, altogether more beautiful world to venture into. A meal for one becomes a place ordained for one, a sacred place to meet with another.

That place is better. No work done there is in vain.

And it isn’t lonely. Because no place where the spirit is is an empty place.

. . .

I’m still learning what that looks like and feels like and becomes. All I know is that it’s much lovelier than a place I might set for myself. And I leave a whole lot fuller.

From one wandering soul to another,

Mary Grace