What Can I Do?

What can I do?

How can I fix things?

These questions, or some variation of them, are the most common questions I've been getting recently from people, mostly married, who have read at least some of what I've been writing.

I've tried to offer practical suggestions as I've gone, but sometimes I haven't had a specific answer for what I've written. I'm still not sure I do, but I've come to one conclusion that applies universally to all of this. Really, it applies to any interaction with any person in our lives.

Before I get there though, I want to address an unspoken and probably unrealized implication of these questions. Asking about doing or fixing makes it sound like a project of some kind. Like there's some sort of "one-size-fits-all" solution out there that just has to be applied and everything I've written about will just go away.

Guess what? That solution doesn't exist . . . because this is about people and relationships, not projects to fix or complete.

Gina Dalfonzo puts it into words better than I could:

"Single people aren't projects to be fixed. We're fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, making the journey through life alongside the rest of the church, and dealing with a set of circumstances and experiences that take a lot of grace and strength to handle - which can't always be easily fixed with advice, scolding or rules." (One by One: Welcoming the Singles in Your Church)

I\m not sure that first sentence can be emphasized enough: "Single people aren't projects to be fixed." Approaching things this way doesn't help - it actually hurts all involved.

So, maybe, instead of "what can I do" or "how can I fix it" we need to ask a completely different question. One that goes beyond just looking for a solution and gets to the heart of the relationship and community aspects all of what I've been writing is really all about.

Maybe the better question is actually:

What do we all need to do differently on our part to move through these challenges?

The answer is really not that hard to say. But, living it actually proves to be much more difficult.

Dalfonzo writes:

"If I could take one guess at what the single person is your pew might say to you, given the opportunity, I would guess that it's this: listen. Please listen. Take the time to ask questions, to let the person answer, to hear without judging or jumping in with canned Christian formulas or buzzwords." (One by One)

Listen.

Ask questions.

Don't just look for the quickest advice you could give. Most of the time, advice isn't even necessary.

It's really as simple and as difficult as that.

When I'm in a conversation with some and I say something about being lonely, I'm not looking for advice or instruction on what I should do to change that. And I'm definitely not looking for advice on how to find someone to marry so "I'm not lonely anymore." I don't need to be told that I should be content with life right now.

In that moment, I'm just looking for someone to acknowledge that I feel that way and that it's hard. I just need someone to care. If you can make plans with me to do something to help with that feeling of loneliness, great, that's bonus I'll always appreciate. But, if you just listen and acknowledge how I feel, you've done more than most. And it makes a bigger difference than quoting Scripture or other people's advice at me.

I have a few friends who are really good at listening, asking questions, and caring. They're the ones I'm going to reach out to what I've struggling with some of the things I've written about recently. And I hope I do anywhere near as well as they do when they're coming to me with a struggle they're having that I may not have experienced.

Listening is key. It's where we have to start. It's what we have to keep doing. It really is the answer to what we can all do to make a difference as far as loneliness and the connection with others we need goes.