“I just need a little time to myself…” How often do you hear yourself say that, or think it? By comparison, how often do you actually take that time?

As women, we weave webs of relationship, strong and beautiful as a spider’s silk, yet often, just as sticky. We get trapped in our own attempts to help and support others.
We need some space to just be, to receive the strength and power of God, to be refilled and refueled. We can find that, I believe, in the spiritual practice of solitude. But often we forgo this discipline because our definition of it is far too narrow. We expect it to be difficult, boring, or worse.
Twice this week I spent some time alone with God. Neither time involved going to a monastery or retreat center, or even studying my Bible. I talked to God, and listened to the Spirit’s whispers through unlikely mouthpieces.
On Sunday, when the weather was warm, I got on my bike and rode, alone through quiet neighborhoods near my house, for a couple of hours. My wise daughter had suggested it, since she could see my frustration with my husband’s attempts at a home improvement project. “Mom, I think you ought to go for a bike ride this afternoon,” she said. I returned, sunburned and leg-weary, but soul refreshed.
On Monday, I spent time alone in a crowded place–
downtown Chicago. I had lunch in an outdoor cafe on Michigan Avenue (it was sunny and
beautiful) and then walked through Millennium Park and the Art
Institute for a little while. I spent some time looking at the work of Monet. One painting showed a sea shore, with the light hitting a distant hill. How much of my life do I live wanting to get to the distant hills, rather than being fully present in the here and now?

I wandered from the Impressionists to a different gallery in the museum, where works by the Dutch masters hung, big and bold, with their characteristic contrast of light and dark. I noticed a painting
by the 17th Century Dutch painter Terbrugghen, called the Denial of
Saint Peter–it shows Peter being confronted by the servant girl as
Christ is led away. I pondered in silence, sat on a bench in the gallery with my journal. Listened. Jotted this in my journal: Do I always stand up for Jesus, or deny him with my silence? Do I say I’ll stand by him but forget to act like one of his followers?
Art speaks to me at a soul level.
To drive to the city was a bit inconvenient–I got down there in 35
minutes, but it took almost an hour to get home with traffic. But the
time alone, in a cafe and the museum (and even in the car on the
way), was worth it. Seeing the flowers coming up everywhere
(Chicago’s really good at city landscaping)was great.
I’m aware that God continues to grow my heart for the city, and that
I enjoy being there.
The more you think, “I could never fit solitude into my life”–the
more you need it.
How about you? Are you caught in the very web of support and strength you’ve woven for others? How do you find creative ways to be alone with God? What longings stir in you as you consider that possibility?

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