In Marilynn Robinson’s beautiful novel Gilead, Reverend John Ames remarks, “I don’t know why solitude would be a balm for loneliness, but that is how it always was for me in those days.”

These days seem harried and hectic, and solitude is an elusive gift, but I’ve found a slice of it this afternoon, a place to pause in, just myself. I’m thankful. Strange how one who is never alone can ache sometimes with loneliness. How being alone can soothe and refresh.

When the word is “pause,” I’m thankful for a pause today, an hour before diving back into the breathless rush of life: the crayon to clean off the back of the door, coffee to scrub out of the carpet, small mouths to feed and bodies to love, and always more than you can do no matter how much you do.

The Lord at whose voice the earth melts…