Alone Alone (No More)

Have you ever wished to be alone on a faraway island?

Maybe not that kind of alone.

Maybe this kind of alone?

Yes to the second one—-especially in the dead-dark of winter.

My “Alone” was neither one of these. Maybe it was better? Or was it worse? Here is what it was like last week to be utterly alone for 8 days on faraway Harvester Island (Alaska).

I might have been alone, but it was not quiet.

The wind pulled song and whir out of every material thing. And of course there are busy beings all around me, letting me know of their presence: gulls, kittiwakes, bald eagles, magpies and oystercatchers circle the island, their arias a symphony of squawk, whistle and cry.

And of course, my other fellow residents, who are quiet but I hear them still . …

If you follow the ancient Hebrew Creation Story, we humans (humus) were created last. Last of all the living beings on and under this earth. They weren’t alone before us: they had one another and the One who created them. They were knit and woven together into one thriving fruitful community.

Science is just now beginning to discover just how sentient creatures are, even trees and plants: they speak to one another, warn, protect, share nutrients.

So I wasn’t alone. Not for a minute. I was at home in my native country.

But I cannot stay there for long. Not without friends, family, kids and grands. I need you all!

I’m back in a bigger world now after a summer at Harvester Island. I’ve returned to a world even more noisy, chaotic, and politically divided than when I left. (I did not even think this was possible.)

Among the raucous noise, I try to find a home: voices of reason, faith and grace in the halls of governance. But they’re hard to find. I am far more alone here than on my wilderness island. When I can bear no more, I open my front door to the other voices:

Listen: Do you hear it?

Here is our home. We are not alone.