It wasn’t dark yet outside so there had been no need to turn on the lights in the church kitchen. A new friend and I were just doing a little pre-church visiting and hadn’t noticed the room was starting to darken. Through the shadows I could tell there was a different look on her face than usual. She was smiling like always, but I could see through it – something was troubling her.

There was a pause in our conversation, and I thought we would move into the community room for Bible study, but I was stopped dead in my tracks by a question, “How long have you been alone?” Alone? How long? How long have I been alone? Oh, it has been ever so long I thought. I had just spent the night and most of the morning crying over my loneliness and telling God how much I missed my husband, my married life, my home, all of it – and how very weary I was of the silence around me brought on by my aloneness! How did she know! Her question came at me like a dart, or more like a spear that pierced right through my heart – through that shadowy room and into my already bleeding heart.

Too long! I screamed inside as I groped for words to speak aloud, hopefully without tears. But I am certain now, if I could have seen her face clearly her eyes were surely holding back watery streams of emotions as well. I felt weak in the knees and a little nauseated when I thought of how long it had been, yet how fresh it still seemed. It was daunting to speak it out – “eight years” I said painfully, “Eight years” to which she parroted,

“Eight years? Oh, it’s been two and a half for me” and with a deep breath and a sigh, “I miss my husband.”

“I miss mine too” I said. “I am so sorry for your pain, I remember what two and a half years was like. I cried twenty-four seven.”

She looked up at me and nodded, pointing to herself. The tears welled up again.

“I do not like being alone” I said – again tears from me and a nod from her.

We talked a bit and decidedly agreed that being alone is the pits.

Had I been reminded of my own pain so I would be sensitive to hers? Possibly. I gave her a big teary-eyed hug. She said, “Oh, I need a lot of those!” We slowly moved into the Bible study, and I sat distracted by the grief I was feeling. I wept quietly through the whole thing – for myself, for my friend, for all of us who long to silence the silence of aloneness. Once I got home, I remembered a similar experience I had had and one that I wrote a story about. Some time ago when I was traveling with Impact Cares I met and wrote a little story about a gentleman in a mobile home park we had served in. I wanted to share it with you. I hope you’ll take time to read it – it’s short but a good reminder of the fact that there are people all around us that are quietly suffering, and God has masterfully given us the tools needed to quiet that suffering – if we care to use them. We can silence someone’s silence, even if for a moment.