It’s lonely being an unique weasel. Being an unique weasel means that there isn’t anyone on the planet just like you. It’s hard not to have a living soul really GET you and though there are a couple of movies that attempt to touch on this, there’s always a happily ever after in movies that rarely happens in real life.
Let me explain. Firstly, I’m an only child. Most of my friends can’t believe I’m an only child when I tell them that. They tell me I don’t act spoiled or entitled. Well, onlies are usually coddled and loved and WANTED, which leads to that whole ‘I’m special’ mentality. I was none of those things, so the stereo type doesn’t apply. It also means I don’t have siblings to commiserate with about our messed-up childhood. It’s lonely.
Second, I married at 18 to get out of the house. Divorced at 25 (go figure…right?) Pregnant with son number one but not married to his dad until 2 years later, proceeded then to have two more boys before divorcing husband number 2. Re-married AGAIN to husband number three right away with two step-kids, a grandchild that was adopted by a uncle, and currently have son number three and his girlfriend living with us. Try explaining THAT to my church girlfriends! Pretty lonely not being able to share my life without the judgmental stares from those who have no idea about a life such as mine.
Thirdly, I started my career as a Respiratory Therapist at age 19. I’ve worked in a hospital, and specifically the Emergency Room, for the past 20 years. I have seen more death and despair, seen the human body in all types of horrific situations whether due to disease or trauma, worn (yes, literally) blood and brains and vomit more times than I can count, been reduced to vomiting or tears on more than a few occasions, held organs of living humans, and dealt with grief and horror so many times that I can’t even count. I still see the most heart-breaking of these cases in my head but I don’t have nightmares about them anymore, thank goodness. Needless to say, I’m not a real fun conversationalist in social settings. Not too many people can or want to handle hearing about the gore, so I stay quiet…maybe even aloof. It’s not that I don’t care to share..I’m actually just trying to spare them a nightmare or two.
Fourth, I’m a Bible-Study teacher. I’ve been a Christian for nearly 7 years and after I was saved, God gave me a passion for His Word and learning that would make Evelyn Wood jealous. (Evelyn Wood had a speed-reading course back in the 70’s for those of you too young to remember!) I have devoured every word of His Word in multiple versions, many many Christianity-based books, and have been in at least 3 Bible studies every year for the past 7 years. Christian friends who have been saved much longer than I don’t understand me. And I don’t understand them. Certainly someone who has walked with the LORD longer than I should have a better grasp of the Bible than me, shouldn’t they? Shouldn’t their faith should be much stronger than mine because they’ve had longer to persevere? But I find that not to be the case, and I really don’t get why. I feel different and weird when I try to talk to them, so I don’t. And my non-Christian friends mostly feel uncomfortable once they find out I teach the Bible. So I don’t bring it up. I’d love to find someone to banter with or really dissect a difficult Bible passage, but there hasn’t yet been anyone to do that with.
Fifth, my husband and best friend loves Country music, NASCAR, and steak. He repairs and sells used cars for living and has read exactly ONE book in his entire life. I’m a vegetarian, and majored in English and Art History before I studied medicine. I love him and he loves me but if I can be brutally honest here…there isn’t much conversation between us that either one of us enjoys. We are such an odd couple, I often think that our marriage is proof that God has a sense of humor! But it is lonely not getting a chance to share my innermost heart with the person who knows me best.
Sixth, I have an absolute love for the homeless. I go to the park and pray with them. I feed them. I give them money when they ask, and sometimes even when they don’t. I see them and seek them out and try in my very small way to make at least this day a little better for them. Most people I know just want them to go away. Most church people I know would rather write a check than show up on a rainy day in the park with coffee and jackets. Most everyone I know refuses to give a beggar anything ‘because it just enables their lifestyle.’ I don’t feel that way. I love loving on people whom society has told over and over that they aren’t worthy. But all that’s between me and God…I’m just being obedient to what He has asked of me. To be perfectly honest, most of my friends probably think I’m crazy and don’t understand why I do what I do. And they certainly don’t want to talk about it!
So there you go….an unique weasel with enough sin and life experiences that she feels there isn’t another soul that can relate. I know I am a daughter of God, His Beloved, and a co-heir of Christ and all that He has died to give me. I cherish that and stand on those promises. I am not in the least bit worried about the judgmental stares or gasps of surprise when I forget how weird I am and say something from my heart, because God made me and knew me before I was even formed in my mother’s womb. However, I can’t help but wonder sometimes how God is going to use this differentness for His glory. One step at a time, one day at a time, one prayer at a time, and in His Perfect Plan, I know He will reveal what all this loneliness was good for. And I pray that the fruit of my life is pleasing and sweet to Him until the end of my days.