lonely hearts in a crowd

My eldest daughter graduated from high school last night. We had a big party, about 80 guests, and it rained, so we all crowded into the house while the folding chairs on the lawn stood empty in pools of water. this was definitely the most people I've ever had in my house - SRO.

It was a big day for me - a big event in my life, though it was not technically about me. It was about my daughter, but in a very true sense everything in our lives is about us - if we are there, we can't help it. There is no other way to experience life.

For me it was about a passage in my own life - nearing 50, watching my daughter shine in her nearly flawless 18 year old beauty (another mother who arrived saw the crowd of teenagers in the next room and exclaimed, "Aren't they beautiful? Every one of them.") and they were.

For me it was about being incredibly grateful for the huge number of friends God has put in our lives - people who care enough about my family to stand around in a crowd for two hours - amazed that I/we actually have that many friends, since I feel lonely and friendless so often. For me it was also about keeping the punch bowl filled, cutting the cake, picking up stray cups and plates for the garbage - mundane tasks that gave me something to do when I was feeling that I might break down if I really looked at everyone, if I looked at A long enough to fix the moment in my memory, if I thought about what was passing and what was to come. It reminds me of the scene in Our Town when the stage manager tells Emily (who I played in college) to choose a very ordinary day to revisit in her life, since she would not be able to bear reliving the important ones. It was like that; I kept a bit of a distance and did not look too closely.

I thought a lot about my high school graduation days - that time in my own life. I know what it was like for me, but I don't know what it's like for my daughter. I know what made my heart beat faster, what worried me, what thrilled me, what made me feel grown up, what made me feel small and insignificant at that age, but I don't know what it is to be be A. I know some of her thoughts - the ones she shares- but I don't know her secret heart, just like no one knows mine except God.

As open and honest and disclosing and truthful (and all those other pop-psych terms we use) as we can be, we are left with the Scriptural truth that, "Each heart knows its own bitterness and no one else can share its joy." Which I guess is why I can end up writing about aloneness (not loneliness) the morning after a lovely aprty with the people who love me most. I'm not ungrateful, I'm not unhappy, I'm just alone inside here.

I am so grateful for the comfort of the Holy Spirit, who DOES know my heart's bitterness and it's joy. Who understands my heart even when I don't; who was sent for the express purpose of comforting us, translating our wordless prayers to God; never leaving us or forsaking us, giving us good hope through grace. All I can say to that is , "Amen."