Isolated

I was faced with an uncomfortable fact about myself this weekend. After harboring perpetual fantasies of independence and “making it on my own,” the sudden experience of what it actually felt like to be completely isolated smacked me in the face.

Nothing truly dramatic happened. I was asked to dog sit for a family over the Thanksgiving holiday; so for an entire week it was just me and an old Labrador retriever hanging out in a quiet neighborhood. Being alone has never intimidated me. In fact, the prospect of solitude for extended amounts of time actually seemed like a perk. I enthusiastically made plans to read, write, work, catch up on my “must-see” movie list; even the idea of walking the dog in the peaceful wooded setting next to a running creek added a touch of romance to my expectations (no doubt encouraged by the Gothic novel I am currently reading). 

For the most part, all my expectations were met. I definitely enjoyed my days of peaceful solitude and independence, even though I did not see anyone for days at a time and was without access to a car. The house itself would have been completely bathed in silence had it not been for the whining dog, my momentary bursts of singing, the internet radio, and my multi-genre movie watching binge.

The problem did not surface until the sun set.

The open, flowing contemporary design of the home, which I adored during the day gave me a distinct feeling of unease at night. Every room had either a wall of windows or a skylight, so there was no escaping the dark outside view no matter where I went. Late at night, the dog would periodically run to one of the windows and start barking or growling. It was eerie to peak out the windows only to be startled by my own reflection. I constantly left all the doors locked.

When I went to bed, the house would creak and my over active imagination would turn them into footsteps. There were times when I even thought I heard whispering, which actually turned out to be the dog breathing at the foot of the bed. Needless to say, I did not sleep very well that week. I went to bed late so I could avoid having to turn all the lights off until the last possible moment and was awoken early every morning by the dog. Most days, I would curl up on the couch in broad daylight and try to nab a couple of hours of uninhibited rest.

The fear became so overwhelming one night that I was almost tempted to stay up on the couch until the sun rose. As a disclaimer, I am no stranger to the power of prayer or even to spiritual warfare. It actually did take some intensive prayer to finally get me to relax enough to go to bed (I prayed that Jesus would deliver me from the fear and He did, along with giving me a tender reminder that He had angels encamped around me).

But facing my own vulnerability was unnerving. The girl who had always been so content with the independence of single life suddenly found herself wishing for the security that a husband and family had to offer. All the dreams of traveling by myself and living on my own went flying out the window in favor wanting to have someone stronger nearby. It was quite a “reality check” moment.

Of course, I believe that God will protect me where ever He leads and that the safest place to be is the center of His will. I also believe in the power and might of God no matter what schemes the enemy might use against me. My problem was the fact that, in one week, all my ambitious dreams were squelched by a creaking house and snoring dog!

 It was definitely not what I was expecting from a week of solitude.