...for the lonely

Talking with Cyndi the other day in a local restaurant, we came upon the business of loneliness. Bubble-people, to be exact.

You know them. They walk from point to point in a little world of their own, concentrated on thoughts their own. Sometimes the eyes are down, focused on the sidewalk ten feet ahead. Sometimes the eyes are far away, unseeing. Their owners are somewhere far, far away. Sometimes the faces reveal sullen fury; sometimes familiar hurt; sometimes what-now? desperation. Sometimes nothing at all.

Sometimes the darkening bubble isn't even a bubble of silence; it's a bubble of busyness. Look carefully, and a lot of our calendars turn out to be isolation bubbles. Alive inside, blind and dead to the world outside. Dead men walking.

Plenty of people now live vicariously through their own Facebook pages, which fill with "good news" and entertainment posts, leaving out the darker half of their realities. Like living through someone else; ironically, it's their own computer-display avatars.

People build bubbles for lots of reasons, many of them defensive and right in a limited way: coping with a family member addicted to chemicals or ambition or power, for example. But victims' isolation bubbles can outlive their usefulness and cripple us.

I said, "And then, sometimes people end up in isolation through very little or no fault of their own. I'm thinking of the 80-somethings at Regency (retirement home). As time passes, they outlive most of their old friends. It gets harder to find and make new friends, then too-quickly they die as well. It all takes energy that's become scarce. If you live long enough, you'll die alone."

Cyndi responded, "Unless... Like the Lorax."

So I started crying.

I hope you remember the story. It's a little parable about the Lorax, who takes care of the Truffula trees in the forest, beautiful trees with furry, wavy tops. One day, the Once-ler comes along with a Thneed-making machine. He starts whacking Truffula trees for their top-tufts, which of course are the basic material for a Thneed: it's a [pointless] "fine-something-that-all-people-need."

As the Once-ler proudly regards his first Thneed, a little guy pops out of the Truffula-stump: "Mister," he said with a sawdusty sneeze, "I am the Lorax! I speak for the trees! I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues, and I'm asking you sir at the top of my lungs! What's that THING you've made out of my Truffula tuft?"

Over the continued protests of the Lorax, the Once-ler destroys the forest and the Lorax must send away all the animals. Finally, the Lorax himself leaves, leaving only a rock with the word "UNLESS..." on it.

The bible is quite emphatic about fellowship (the Greek word is koinonia): We need it, each and all of us. (See Acts chapters 2 through 5, and the one-anothers of scripture here, for a start.) Unless we approach the lonely old people, they will die alone. For those who are involuntarily alone, a kind word can be cool drink in the hot desert. Unless we approach bubble people, they will live and die alone. Often, they see the approach, and avoid it - that's the key to maintaining the bubble, after all. But. Not. Always. Their choice - but let us at least give them the choice to exchange their bubbles for relationships.

I speak for the lonely, for the lonely have no tongues.
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