In a house all alone

I was talking to David the other day about his day off- see he takes Fridays off and while the kids and I are at school he rests, studies, cleans, and recoups from the long week of hard people focused work he does. He stays in the house. By himself.
I am jealous of this. I can probably count on my two hands the times that I have spent alone in this house.
Now here is one of the things that are fully part of who Bethany is as a person: an extrovert- every quiz, every time, all the points- extrovert. I love people. I love being with them. I can spend days talking to old friends. I delight at the thought of meeting strangers and making friends with them. I love meetings. I adore a room full of people, even if we aren't friends yet. I love my kids hanging on me. My life if full. of. people. At work. At church. At home. Especially at home. Around here most days, it isn't usually just our 2 kids- it is most often a small herd of neighbor kids too. Our house is the neighborhood house. This is fantastic.

However, every so often I wish for the chance to sit in a house all alone. I am not even sure that I'd know what to do exactly. Listen to the silence. And by 'the silence' I really mean an NPR podcast. Read a book uninterrupted. Watch whatever I want on TV.
As I wish for this thing, I am acutely aware that there are so many people who are living this way- this house by themselves- and are so desiring my existence. Having someone always around, needing, wanting, surrounding them. That being alone is an option instead of the only thing. Specifically, not 20 ft from where I sit is our neighbor's house. Frank. He is alone all the time. He is a widow and his son dutifully comes every other weekend, but this is the only visitor. Frank can't even drive any more so his life is fully isolated.
This is the paradox; in the same way that every curly haired girl has a straight haired counterpart wishing for the opposite of what they have- every time I want more solitude, there are people who are lonely and sad wishing for companionship- wanting to trade me places. To think of us all as extreme opposites desiring the other life is a little too ying and yang for my taste, but it is an interested reality.
I don't feel guilt over these longings, no shame in wanting them- in fact I have had too much of this thing I want in other stages of my life and will be there again sooner than I can realize it, but I do find the reality of it interesting. The psychology or sociology or people-ology of these simultaneously similar and dissimilar of human experiences. And further evidence to support the argument of a life lived in gratitude for the stage and reality I am in, and a life lived with empathy for the reality that I do not live in.


***side note: when I told David I was jealous of his alone time, he generously offered to take the kids to the park and grant me my wish, and my reply was- "oh no I want to be with you guys." :)

Packing up Christmas

David is off at work, the kids are playing at the neighbors, so I have a rare quiet evening to pack up our extensive Christmas decorations.
I love the wonder of this just-passed holiday. The magic, the glisten, the way things twinkle.
As I am packing the boxes to be put back up in the attic, I keep thinking about what it will be like when we bring these down again. What will happen in 2015? I can guess: we will still be in this house, I will be partially through my second year teaching 4th grade in my same classroom, my kids will be 8 and 10 and still healthy and kind and wonderful, David will be working with teenagers at Church on the Hill, our good friends will still be close and I will spend my down time similar to how I spend it now.
However a nagging part of me thinks that maybe I am wrong. I have run into a lot of trouble trying predict the future in my life before, so I have learned from those foolish mistakes. This is not a defeatist mindset. I know my God will still be big, good, and unpredictable. I could wake up tomorrow and He could say, "Go to Tanzania," and my Christmas boxes might have to go in storage. Or this year could be a hard one- our little family might face some tough things- real tough. I am not prophesying, I am however acutely aware that my life has been ridiculously, unfairly advantaged, and if God saw it fit to walk us through sorrow, pain, trial, or heart-break it would be His purgative; and He would still be big, good, and unpredictable.
At Ecola (the Bible school I went to right out of high school, 16 years ago?!), I remember there was this somewhat pessimistic professor who said something about life being either going through hardship or recovering from hardship. I am far away from that attitude- my optimism is still very intact, but I know that it takes a second for everything to change. I have seen my friends and heard stories of people whose entire lives change in the slip of an ankle, the swerve on a slick road, the visit to doctor, the loss of a job, the reassurance of the addiction. So I am not so naive to think all will always be well.
So as I say farewell to my stockings and tree skirt, I remind myself that I am overwhelmingly grateful for the gargantuan blessings I have in my life, and I remember that these gifts and wealth is not for me: I have been greatly blessed to bless others. And also I hope that whatever lessons God has for us this year- hard or otherwise, I will greet next Christmas with the delight that comes from knowing my God has got this and is far better at seeing the future than I am.