BY WALT ALBRITTON
OPINION —
Almost three years have passed since my wife died. Her death enrolled me in a school I had not wanted to attend – the School of Sorrow. Nonetheless, the lessons I am learning are helping me move forward with the rest of my life.
Some lessons I had anticipated, having witnessed others cope with grief. I knew I would struggle with sadness, guilt, self-pity and apathy, and I have. What surprised me was the anguish of no longer being able to share with my wife both the joyful and the difficult experiences of my daily life. No one had warned me how frustrating that would be. It remains an exasperating struggle.
Those conversations usually occurred as we shared a meal together. Now, for the first time in more than 88 years, I am learning how to eat alone. I had never imagined how difficult that would be. Of course, my family and many friends have often brought a meal and have eaten with me, but more often than not, I am alone at the table. That in and of itself is not painful; it is a feeling that there is “something wrong about this.” Perhaps the words “strange” and “per-plexing” describe what I feel.
God answered my cry for help by motivating my friend Mike McElroy to give me a book titled Every Moment Holy, by Douglas McKelvey. It is a compilation of quaint liturgies including this one that is teaching me how to eat alone without complaining about it:
A LITURGY BEFORE A MEAL EATEN ALONE
You created us for companionship, O God,
for the sharing of burdens,
for the joining of celebrations,
for the breaking of bread in fellowship,
and so it is not unnatural that we should taste
a particular sorrow when eating a meal alone.
Sit with me and linger at this solitary table, O Lord.
In the absence of human companions,
may I know more fully your presence.
In this silence where there is no conversation,
may I more clearly hear your voice.
Use my own momentary loneliness
to work in me a more effectual sympathy
for others who are often alone,
and who long for the companionship
of their God and of his people.
Let me afterward be more intentional
in the practice of hospitality.
Let me sometimes be the reason
the loneliness of another is relieved.
Meet me now in my own loneliness, O Lord.
Meet me in this meal. I receive it a your
provision for my life in this hour. Amen.
I welcomed this prayer as a message from Jesus, so I have invited Him to sit with me when I am eating a meal alone and “taste a particular sorrow.” It means so much when He speaks to me.
One day I heard Him say, “Walter, I know it has not been easy for you to eat alone, but I am pleased that you are learning to use this time to think of ways you can relieve the loneliness of others. Do remember that you are not alone, for I am sitting at this table with you. And I will continue walking with you as you learn the other lessons I am teaching you in the School of Sorrow. Be patient with yourself; you are my man, and I will never leave you.”
His presence, and His affirmation, can turn a can of chicken soup and crackers into a wonderful mealtime!
