I am an extrovert. An extremely extroverted extrovert. I used to joke that when I needed alone time, I would go to a party and hang out at the chip table. I could never get enough time with people and would quickly grow restless if my roommates slept in too late on a Saturday. I thought motherhood would be a great match for my desire for constant relational stimulation. And at first, it was! I had a new tiny best friend by my side all hours of the day. My closest friends made special trips to come be with us in the first weeks after my oldest was born. Every night, someone would deliver a meal or come to eat with our growing family. Strangers would stop me in public to talk to me about my new baby. I could schedule coffee dates while snuggling my precious newborn or have neighbors over during naptime.
And then, one night in the dark as I was nursing my eight-week-old, I began to weep. The meals had ended, the hormone high had dissipated, my sweet baby was screaming in my arms, and I had no idea how to help him. In that moment, I felt deeply alone and just ached for someone—anyone—to walk into the room, take my baby, and sit with me in the sadness that I couldn’t shake. Here I was, joined with this child God had graciously gifted to me, and I felt completely alone.
But I wasn’t alone. Jesus was there in the dark.
“Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
If I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
If I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me,
Your right hand will hold me fast”(Psalm 139:7–10 NIV).
Motherhood is accompanied by a sense of loneliness because, for a season, we have to lay aside part of ourselves as we pour out and nurture our little ones. We are isolated by sickness, laundry, dinners, naptimes, and school schedules. There are vacations we aren’t on, photos we aren’t in, conversations we can’t finish, and parties we aren’t attending. There are days upon days in which the only people we see need us to wipe their bottoms and remind them to keep their hands to themselves.
The ache can be unbearable. It is unfair that the enemy uses this to bring mothers to tears rather than to their knees. For we have access to his Spirit so that “with confidence [we may] draw near to the throne of grace, to receive mercy and find grace to help” with every lonely need (Heb. 4:16).Jesus isthere. He weeps with us. He knows the loneliness. “He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (Is. 53:3).
At Christmas, we celebrate the birth of Jesus, our Emmanuel.God with us.His birth and life ultimately led to his death on the cross. Yet when he ascended, he left us his Spirit so that we are never alone. By this Spirit we have the power to dispel lies, embrace truth, and be raised to life in motherhood. By this same Spirit we can also have constant communion with God and enjoy fellowship with him when we are in the dark, kissing feverish heads and longing for a friend.
God with us.
God iswith us.
It is also good to remember that God never meant for us to journey in solitude. In Genesis, God made man and said that it was “not good” for him to be alone (2:18). Even Jesus, who had perfect communion with his Father, walked and lived with close friends by his side. We are made to live in community. Doing life with other believers is a necessary and important part of carrying out the Gospel. And when we struggle to find our social footing after becoming a mom, there is a place for us within the Body of believers—a place to pour out and be poured into.
There have been seasons when I have been able to participate in Bible studies during the week or in small groups at night. There have been seasons when I have delivered meals and a listening ear to a new mom. And then there have been seasons when I’ve had to call on this Body to help me. To be honest, there have been seasons when the church has been a source of loneliness of another kind, and at other times a source of deep community and friendship.
Yet no matter the season, each time I gather with my church family after a long week of dealing with tantrums and my own inadequacy, God has been faithful to provide a place of rest. Some days, just being with other believers feels like enough. Because of the Spirit we are connected by a bond that cannot be broken by shifting seasons, capacity, and availability.
I often tell my children that when they feel the urge to complain, they can turn it into an opportunity for thankfulness. I am not often thankful for the loneliness I feel in motherhood, but I amthankful for the way it points me to Jesus. When all of my extrovert needs are being met, it can be easy to minimize my need for his companionship. And then, when my tears remind me that I have felt left out and alone, I draw near to the lover of my soul. He is a loving friend who cares for me and pursues communion with me on the most isolating days. I am encouraged that I am never alone because of the work of Emmanuel. God with us.
And one day, we will gather with all the saints in the new Jerusalem, crying: “Holy, Holy, Holy” to the truest friend. Until then, we can pray with gratitude, “You are here, Jesus. You are here with me. Thank you, Father.”
“O come, O come, Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here; until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.”
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION/ APPLICATION:
What are some ways you have experienced loneliness in motherhood? How has God met you in this place? What parts of himself have you been able to see more clearly and feel more deeply in lonely times?
Often, when we feel left out or isolated, we are tempted to look inward and lament to ourselves. What are some practical ways you might ask Jesus to help you to look outward instead and love others in spite of your loneliness?
If you can, take a minute to listen to the Advent hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” and meditate on the words. Can you relate to the longing reflected in the lyrics? In what ways can you direct your longing for friendship/community/a place to belong to Jesus? Ask the Holy Spirit to meet you where you are and remind you of his presence today.
Misty Taft is the wife of Jared and the mother of three clever and curious boys who are embracing chaos in Charlotte, NC. Misty is a member of Hope Community Church where she serves on the worship team and leads a team of children's ministry volunteers. She craves adventure, time with Jesus, making memories with her family and reading when she isn't teaching and tutoring high schoolers in math. She longs to bring the hope of Jesus into the homes of weary moms, friends, and neighbors.