Portable Sanctuary: Learning the Art of Solitude

"Solitude is more a state of mind and heart than it is a place...whether alone or among people, we always carry with us a portable sanctuary of the heart."

- Richard Foster

 I am an extravert. I am one who measures how good my day was by how many friends I got to spend time with. Or by how many good conversations I had. As a child, my parents' worst form of punishment in response to my disobedience was time alone in my room. I used to lay on  my bed, listen to the sound of people having fun in the living room, and weep at the terrible torture my parents subjected me to. I glean life and energy from people.

In recent days I have found myself in a desert-like state emotionally. Somewhere between wrapping up my first year as a dorm mom, clinging to a personal life outside of work, and saying goodbye to girls I had spent every day with for ten months, I have misplaced the excitement I once had. The excitement to do what I'm made to do: love and disciple people. Apathy has wiggled its way in. Exhaustion has been tugging on my leg like a persistent child. Resent has whispered words, begging to take up residence in my heart. And I am scared. Those things aren't like me...are they?

 So now I find myself inside an old room, lit by large old windows that overlook the ocean. The breeze floats in and touches my hair. This is day 2 of 3 of my personal retreat. It took a few wise friends to help me recognize the early symptoms of a dry, worn out spirit. It was after some persistance that I decided to search for solitude.
 

 

Solitude: [sol-i-tood]  n. the state of being alone; seclusion.

 

I do not like seclusion. Or alone. But I do like learning new things. Solitude is a new thing for me. Here's what I've learned about solitude so far:

It is easily misunderstood.

It is easily chased away by other, seemingly more important things.

It helps me hear the thoughts that sometimes I'd like to avoid.

It is a discipline that adds a new depth to my relationship with Jesus.

It is worth fighting for.

 These two days have been spent on long walks, dinners for one, reading, contemplating, dreaming, praying. Solitude has opened my heart to the idea that being alone does not always mean being lonely. It has also brought me back to the truth that I once grasped so tightly: that apart from Him, I can do nothing (John 15).

So now I retreat into the stillness, refuse to fill it with busyness, breathe in deep, and let my being be filled again with the simple fact that I am deeply and fiercely loved by an Almighty Father. Maybe soon this love will overflow and spill out of me once again. I'm beginning to see the necessity of learning this art of solitude.