Ah! Look at all the Lonely People...

Ah! Look at all the Lonely People!
Current mood: contemplative


Disclaimer: This blog would be enhanced by listening to the Beatle's song, "Eleanor Rigby" as I make reference to their lyrical genius.

I found a lonely person this past Sunday morning as I searched for a place to sit at the coffee shop. I wasn't looking for a long conversation to go with my chai tea and un-graded persuasive essays, but I settled into one as I shared a table with Susan, a 50-something modern day Eleanor Rigby who was visiting her parents for the weekend. Her big dilemma for the day revolved around whether or not she was going to venture out for a bike ride, but the wind was intimidating. After hearing several anecdotal stories about her cats and the challenges she faced while substitute teaching, I was ready to brave the wind and find solace in a table outside.

I didn't, for fear that my papers would blow everywhere. After another half hour, my best "listening" smile was beginning to strain, and I reached into my red purse, and made a great show of looking for a grading pen, hoping she could take a hint. As I hunted for my favorite purple gel pen, I saw the book I was savoring to read after work had been done, and was reminded of a passage I had underlined earlier this week:

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to talk, mad to live, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles".

Instantly, my mind flashed to some pages that are taped into the back of my Bible. They had been put there during my freshman year at college as encouraged by our Life and Teachings teacher, a little silver-haired man who loved to have us sing hymns before class started, and never quite caught on that the boys in the back requested extra verses just to waste time. The image of Father McKenzie writing his sermons comes to mind. At any rate, I've always intended to remove them after they had served their purpose after my class final, but I feared that peeling the tape off would ruin the binding.

I've only re-read their contents a few times when I've been in a very boring church service, as they are simply a collection of outlines and quotations revolving around major themes in the book of Matthew. Mostly, they all point to the concept of being a missionary, as they unpack the parables involving people or things hoping to be found, or waiting to be noticed.

As I thought about those pages, I couldn't help but notice the fact that perhaps Jack Kerouac could have been writing words of Jesus. I saw the ten virgins waiting outside as they held their oil that, "burn, burn, burns, like fabulous yellow roman candles". My mind flashed to the prodigal son, wanting and "desirous of everything at the same time". I thought of the colorful characters Jesus associated with who never, "said a commonplace thing", and the lost coin, sheep and son who are, "mad to be saved". I pictured Martha who was, "mad to talk", and the sick who were, "mad to live". As I pondered about how Jack wrote from his experiences on an open road, I couldn't help but draw comparison to Jesus as he went from one shadowy street to another witnessing the lost and lonely.

My mom uses the phrase, "it's a God thing" when she explains the times when the divine meets ordinary. I wish at the time I could have recognized that this was one of those possible moments, but instead of walking across the room and sharing these thoughts with Susan, I reached for my purple pen. She took the hint, and moved to an open table as I began to grade.

A few minutes later I glanced up, and saw her talking to the person she had intended to meet: a blind woman who frequents the coffee shop with her cuddly white dog. I watched their easy conversation as they smiled and shared stories. Later I saw Susan navigate her friend across the street as the wind gently nudged the edges of their clothing, like a child tugging to play.

My ipod drowned out all sounds as I finally had the space I had previously desired. I sipped my lukewarm chai tea as my purple pen flourished advice and correction across the wrinkled pages. Later as I booted up my Mac to enter in the grades, I saw that in a room full of people, I was the only one sitting alone.

Perhaps when we don't take the time to seek the ones who are mad, longing to be saved, or burning like roman candles, we are the lonely people picking up the rice where a wedding has been, left by those virgins who listened.

All the Lonely people...where do they all come from? Where do they all belong?

I believe that both Jesus and Jack know the answer to that one.

I looked out the window, and feared that perhaps I was the one wearing the face that I keep in a jar by the door. Like I was saying earlier, I found a lonely person this past Sunday morning at the coffee shop.

I just didn't think that it was going to be me.