Some years ago after leaving an abusive husband, my children and I discovered a church in Hazel Dell where they had a ministry to single adults. Lonely, trying to find my way in life I decided to try the church. How excited I was to find out they had babysitting for the children during the meetings. Week after week my small children and I drove to the singles meetings at our new church. The pastor, Tom, was a friendly soul, warm outgoing, making us feel welcome. Some nights, we would come in late, a bedraggled bunch in spite of every effort on my part to put clean clothes on the three smallest children, but late or not, we were always welcome. The people who attended the group were a mixed bunch of people. Mostly much older than I, (then in my early thirties). Some of the people were quiet, some were noisy, some were faded images of who they'd been, but all shared a common thread, we were now single. "Single again" we met together to find comfort, friendship and hopefully fellowship. We sang, our jovial preacher gave a short talk, and then we mingled. My social skills were rusty and I was apt to do more watching than interacting but I persevered.
One lady in particular, Merrilee, took me under her wing. She was a pretty, older lady who led singing. She was determined to bring me out of my shell, and week after week she would greet me, ask me how I was doing, make conversation in spite of the fact I was quiet. The group slowly became, my group. The differences among us didn't seem important any more as we got to know each other over time. I began to hear stories of how other people were surviving their singlehood. Many, who had lost their mates to death, mourned their loved ones and struggled to find joy in the path without them. Some newly divorced, faced a battle with bitterness and anger. All of us faced a common enemy; loneliness.
After a number of weeks, someone found out I knew how to play the piano and every now and then they had me play while they sang. I was nervous, I felt awkward, but I did the best I could. One week, I was invited to be the greeter. Forced outside my comfort zone, I stood at the door and welcomed people to the meetings. Coming out of my shell of isolation was a slow process, but with the help of other loving people, encouraging me, comforting me, I was making progress.
Several months into the meetings, I decided maybe a weekly handout would be something that would help people connect. My vision was to have articles, poems, announcements of events printed out in a little weekly paper. I shared my idea and the pastor enthusiastically o.k'ed it. When shared with the group the first week, several people volunteered to write, they had poems, or stories they wanted to share. The articles came in, some hand written on worn pieces of paper, some typed and neat, all touching poems and stories of victory and faith. Their stories were of people going through so many trials searching to find hope in a God who promised to help them through. It was for me a wonderful experience to get to know people in a deeper way, to see past their faces, into their hearts and souls.
Everyday, in each of our lives we meet and are around people who in their own way, may be "single again." It may be that it's not a literal break up of a marriage, maybe an isolation of soul, and spirit. Perhaps, emotionally they've been wounded, and have drawn away from life. It is a challenge to me personally to try to become a "Merrilee" to the people who need encouragement. To reach out to the hurting soul. Often, I will get busy, and forget to be that voice of comfort, then later, regret I hadn't taken the time to be there for someone. And to the "Merrilee's" in my life, (then and now), thank you!
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