Alone Time

Today has been comprised of lots of moments of me saying, "OK, self. Do something." In an ironic twist, the introvert who really likes alone time has found herself with a shocking amount of alone time today. Even introverts need people sometimes. It is so rare for me to have a huge stretch of alone time and it ends up being a little scary, a little lonely. So little time in the last two decades of my life has been spent alone that I have not developed good "alone time" boundaries and protocol. I eat too much and do too little and waste too much time and squander opportunities to pray.

I'm much better at carving out times of refreshment from a full day than I am from an empty day. What a paradox.

Yesterday, as the bitter wind blew our snow storm in, I sat out on my deck, reflecting, praying, crying (I always cry when I pray) and just watched God bring the storm in. I prayed specifically that my loneliness would remind me to pray for the lonely. So I did.

Today, I did spend more time on the deck, but this time it was just to shovel off the rather deep layer of snow. I wasn't lonely at that particular time, more like sweaty. Shoveling is oddly energizing for me. Way more energizing than the annual staining of the deck where wasps cluster around me, hoping apparently to get a whiff of the stain I'm using. They love the stuff.

Throughout this day, every time the too-much-alone-time has descended, I have had to consciously choose to move, to pray, to take action of some kind. I know myself too well. Some rest is good. A day of sluggishness all to myself ends up with me depressed.

I've cleaned. (As in I actually dusted. That's serious business for me.)
I've checked Facebook and the NCAA brackets. (Way too many upsets in my bracket, but I'm still in it.)
I've returned a couple of e-mails.
I've had a couple of really nice phone calls.
I've baked a pumpkin pie. (I just really like pumpkin pie.)
I've shoveled snow.
I've worked on my scrapbook.
I've worked on a long-term study of the gospels I'm doing.
I'm headed toward my Sunday School lesson preparation.

There's still some stuff on my "should do" list, but looking at the way I've spent the day, I'm OK with leaving it. Really, who gets everything done on the list anyway?

I'm looking forward to a quiet evening, knowing I haven't blown off the gift of a day to myself.
Just me and my pile of books and my journal and a cozy chair and a blanket and hot tea.
Yup.

Oh, and some pumpkin pie.

It will be nice to see people again (said the introvert).