I used to really hate eating alone.  And I don’t use the word “hate” loosely.  Years ago, if I had a choice between dental work and sitting in a restaurant by myself, I would have chosen the former.

It wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was downright painful.  And I remember the first time I did it…I think it was a Luby’s Cafeteria oddly enough.  I was in nursing school and needed a quick meal before heading to work.  There I sat, nervously looking around at my elderly table neighbors while my macaroni and cheese got cold.  I ate as fast as I could and practically ran to my car.

This morning, more than ten years later, I sat in a booth alone at my closest IHOP.  Waffles were on my mind (and stomach) when I woke.  And I can tell you, I still felt a bit self-conscious.  I wouldn’t describe the eating alone process as completely comfortable…at least not yet.  But do something enough, and you learn how to make friends with it.  I wouldn’t say we’re best friends…but we’re becoming pretty close acquaintances.

And this is not a pity party, my friend.  Besides whipped cream topped waffles, I also woke craving solitude.  I just needed to be alone today.  I needed to spend time, actual time without the company of another person.  No talking.  Just the silence of my own thoughts.  One would think I get a lot of this, being single and living by myself.  But life is busy.  Alone time has been replaced as of late with coffee and dinner dates.  It was time to be quiet….it was time to be alone.

The restaurant was anything but silent.  I was surrounded by people, mostly families with small children.  The voices of conversation mixed with the clanking of silverware against plates.  But I could actually hear it.  How often do we stop and listen to what’s going on around us?

I confess, my immediate reaction to a space of inner silence (even when mingled with outer noise), is to pick up my phone.  Text someone, glance at social media, check email.  Our phones are our life-lines these days.  We can shop and virtually interact with others, while simultaneously “telling” our bank when we want to pay our bills.

And all of this activity, all of this noise leaves our minds and hearts over-stimulated and tired.  Perhaps we’ve lost the ability to be quiet.  Or perhaps we’ve lost the ability to enjoy the quiet.  Because quietness forces us to be present.  Or at least, it forces us to wrestle with the act of being present.  Sometimes our “present” isn’t exactly where we would prefer to be.  Right?

“I was silent and still… my anguish increased. My heart grew hot within me… I meditated… Show me, O Lord… how fleeting is my life… Each man’s life is but a breath. Selah.” (Ps. 39:2-5)  (Passage used from www.soulshepherding.org)

Notice the first line.  “I was silent and still…my anguish increased.”  I don’t know of a more perfect description, honestly.  I can testify to this feeling of “anguish” when I find spaces of silence and stillness.  Even in the spiritual craving, it feels unnatural.  Even as a yogi, I fight the battle every time I show up to my mat.

There is something very holy about solitude.  And maybe something more holy in silence.  I tell my students that the physical practice of yoga is about creating space in our bodies.  The poses facilitate the stretching and strength that inevitably makes room in our muscles and joints, etc.  But it’s also a “time out.”  Our mats take us away from our routines and give us an opportunity to repair and reset dysfunction.

I think we could all use a spiritual “time out” as well.  The last word in the above scripture is “Selah.”  While the exact meaning isn’t known, The Amplified Bible translates selah as “pause, and think of that.”

Other words that come to mind for “pause,” are stop…be still…yield.

“Think of that,” implies a ceasing of speech.  So being quiet…reflecting…listening.

It makes sense that both of these, though not easy, stand a better chance when we’re alone.  It may not always be realistic, especially for you moms and dads out there.  But I would encourage all of us, regardless of our busy-ness, to carve out some time just for us.  Even if it’s once a week, however many minutes we can grab onto, let’s do so and trust the Lord will meet us there.

Selah.