Never, Ever Alone

Barely awake, I rolled over on the couch, trying to rouse through weird dreams. So, when my daughter-in-law handed me a Starbucks coffee, I couldn’t compute and asked, “Is this real?”

“Yes,” she chuckled, “I ran out and got us some. There’s one close by and I figured we both needed it after last night.”

My four-month-old grandson’s cries kept us from sleep during the dark hours. When my son brought him out to the living room at 6 am, he’d remarked, “That was the worst night yet.”

As little man lay on his back, happy under his jungle gym, I sent Sam back to bed and gave my grandson a talking to. I could tell by his delighted squeals that he wasn’t paying much attention. Thus, I came away from the eventful night, reminded of how exhausted, isolated, and alone a new mom can feel.

But man, he’s just so cute…

Ironically, a few days earlier, I ran across the lyrics to a song I wrote about 20 years ago. Three months after my husband died, I’d roped my brother, Mark, into traveling to Mobile, Alabama with me and my boys to experience the Pensacola Outpouring. The on-going revival had significant meaning to me since Jason and I attended services several times the previous year.

After worship Friday night, we settled into a hotel. But around 3 am, I woke in extreme pain. Aware I was having a kidney stone attack, I called a taxi and left Mark with my boys.

The hospital proved lacking—especially when I threw up in a room by myself without a container or anyone to help me clean it up. Alone with my vomit, I almost drowned in a dark wave of loneliness.

In time, a nurse cleaned the mess. Pain meds dulled my senses. My brother picked me up. We made it back home. And the stone passed.

But the memory lingered. The darkness hung thick.

As I processed the raw emotion a few days later, the feelings spilled out into a song:

Was I alone when the pain was so strong?

I felt alone, though I know I was cradled in your arms.

I was left alone in my suffering.

But now you’ve given me eyes to see.

That no, I was not alone.

Your arms held me fast in your loving care.

No, I was not alone.

When I needed someone most, you were there.

Am I alone now that my friend has gone home

I've felt alone though I know he's rejoicing at your throne

There are times I can feel a certain emptiness

But as the days go by the sorrow is less

For no, I am not alone

Your arms hold me fast in your loving care

No, I am not alone

When I need someone most you are there.

When I read the words this week, so many years later, it almost felt like I tried to wrap the suffering in a bow. But having thought about it for a few days, I remember now that I was trying to process how I would face more future unknowns, lonely hospital stays, painful kidney stones, etc., without my spouse.

Searching for hope, the message resonated loud: I was not alone. I had never been alone. We are never alone. No matter what.

Hallelujah!

I’ve certainly battled loneliness since the day I wrote those lyrics on a Sam’s Club flyer in 1997, because loneliness is a life hazard. Circumstances easily line up that leave us feeling exhausted, isolated, and alone.

But the Holy Spirit whispers, promising comfort, companionship, love, forgiveness, peace.

When we give our lives to Jesus, the one who gave His life for ours, we receive the indwelling of the Holy Spirit—the divine connector to all things wondrous, pure, and healing. But some days that presence is more real than others.

So, as light filled my dark thoughts years ago, the Holy Spirit gave me a song to remind me that even though I didn’t feel peace in that hospital room when pain wracked my insides, God’s divine presence was with me then and is with me now.

He never leaves us. He never gives up on me. Or you. Through the good, the bad, and the blah in between.

It's simple. We are never, ever alone.