Then the Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him." Genesis 2:18
Have you ever felt lonely, when out of the blue, you receive a telephone call from an old friend you haven't heard from in a while? Or perhaps it's your mom or dad calling to see how your day is going, and they end the conversation with, "I love you!" The loneliness you were just feeling disappears, and your day brightens. You feel connected and not alone. You are loved. But what if you answer the phone and it's just a wrong number? How would you feel then? I know how I'd feel because it happened to me.
It was the second week of December 1991. I sat at home, staring at the telephone on my desk for quite a while. I had met this girl a couple of days before and couldn't get her off my mind. I wanted to call her, but I hesitated too long and got cold feet. My mind debated what I should say. I was nervous—no, I was scared. Scared about what she might say. What if she didn't agree to go on a date? I questioned everything and couldn't help but imagine all the ways she could turn me down. Then I thought about how easy it would be for her to simply say "no." I remember praying and asking God, "Lord, what should I do?" Then it happened! The phone started ringing, and my serious doubts vanished instantly.
I answered the call and spoke with a stranger. I told the women on the other end of the line, "Sorry, you have a wrong number." By the time I hung up the phone, my earlier apprehension was gone. I quickly dialed Sharon's number. I had to do it fast, or I might change my mind. The rest is now history. Sharon did answer her phone. She did say "yes" to the date. And ten months later, we were married. I often think and wonder about the whole series of events. How I first had to call God with a prayer, and how He answered it. The perfect timing of that wrong number changed my life. I was then able to make a telephone call I so desperately wanted to make. It was like I dialed "L" for Lonely, because I've never been lonely since.
In 1954, Alfred Hitchcock directed the crime mystery film Dial M for Murder, starring Ray Milland and Grace Kelly. It's a classic film that I recently saw for the first time. It's also classic Hitchcock and great entertainment. The title is a dead giveaway—you know someone is going to be murdered. But what if the film had been titled Dial L for Lonely? You'd assume that someone is going to be lonely and that perhaps love is just a telephone call away. You wouldn't even consider that someone might die. But loneliness is a killer too. It's a silent stalker in many people's lives, and unfortunately too many people are lonely. For many, many years, I know I sure was—lonely!
In December 1971, I moved into the Loon Mountain condominium with my mom and dad. We had a "banner" welcome, thanks to Rachel Adams, the wife of former New Hampshire Governor Sherman Adams. Gov. Adams was also a former Chief of Staff to President Eisenhower and the founder of Loon Mountain. The banner read, "Lincoln Welcomes Sandy, Betty & Boys." Our vacation home was now officially—home.
At the time we moved, I was eleven years old and halfway through the sixth grade. I'd start the second half of the school year in the Lincoln, N.H. elementary school. My two older brothers would be attending the New Hampton School in New Hampton, N.H. It was a full-time boarding school about 40 minutes away. For long periods of time, essentially, I would live the life of an only child.
Take another look at the picture with the welcome banner. You'll notice more condominiums being built in the background. We were surrounded by new development, which also included plenty of single-family homes. I soon hoped to have a brand-new neighborhood and perhaps some brand-new friends to go along with it. However, there was one problem: I found myself living in a time loop, much like Bill Murray's character in the movie Groundhog Day. During ski season, each Friday night and Saturday were booming with activity as everyone packed in for the weekend. But come Sunday night, they all returned to Massachusetts, and my entire neighborhood resembled a zombie apocalypse. I was living in a dead zone. No one was around, and all the houses and condominiums were empty. This repetitive time loop continued week after week, leaving me feeling very lonely. For several years, our family was the only one living on the mountain full time.
This next picture was taken at Loon Mountain's base lodge two years before I moved into the condominium. The main cafeteria was located here, and it's where you'd catch a gondola ride to the summit. The road was still dirt. In the distant background is Loon Lodge. That's were my family first stayed while skiing. Hidden behind the Lodge is where I now lived. I could literally ski from my front door to the slopes. That part was great. What wasn't so great was that we lived over two miles from town. If I made any friends, they'd be a world away.
In January 1972, this was my new elementary school. Years later, it was converted into condominiums, as seen in this more recent photo. While the building and grounds changed with time, it was hard for me to change my first impression. I hated it! It didn't help that on my first day, I walked past two students slugging it out bare-fisted on the playground. While they pummeled each other, I couldn't help but think, "Get me out of here!" This left me unsure whom to trust or make friends with. Maybe I should be friends with the winner of the fight? Or was he the bully? With everyone a complete stranger, it would take time to know and trust them, and for them to know me too. I remember one kid who definitely didn't like me at first.
Months later, I was riding the school bus home and had a conversation with Tommy Clark. His family owned the largest tourist attraction in town, Clark's Trading Post, which was famously known for its trained bear act. When Tommy was younger, he entered the cage of a bear cub and was badly mauled. I remember Tommy not only because of his story of survival but also because of what he told me. He said, "I didn't like you at first, but now that I know you, I do." Hearing this felt like a great turning point as I was finally adjusting to my new home and school. I was starting to fit in.
However, just as I was beginning to make friends, a perfect storm of loneliness rolled in, accompanied by a heavy fog of despair. I had missed too many school days—sometimes too sad to get up and go to school. My schoolwork in Wellesley hadn't prepared me for what was being taught in my new school. I was so far behind that catching up by the end of the year was impossible. The struggle made me feel more and more like a failure, plunging me deeper into depression. My mother understood this and allowed me the time off. She also knew that I'd have to repeat sixth grade. I knew it too, which only added to my sadness, anger, and loneliness. While my classmates would soon be moving on to Junior High, I would be left behind, starting all over again with a whole new group of strangers. I hated my life, I hated myself, and I took most of my anger out on the one person who loved me the most: my mother.
If you were to closely examine the door frame of my bedroom at the condominium, you'd notice that it's slightly knocked out of the wall—maybe almost half an inch? I slammed that door quite a few times, evidence of my anger and unhappiness. While I was slamming my door, I hadn't yet slammed the door shut on God. I still believed in Him, but I didn't know Him well enough to pray to Him. Except for my mother's help, I believed I was alone in my struggle to rebuild my shattered world. How wrong I was in believing that! While I didn't pray, my mother did. And she's the one who received a miracle.
I can't adequately express how sorry I am for the way I treated my mother during those years. I caused her great hurt and emotional pain. I said hurtful and mean things. Despite it all, she did everything she could to help and love me. But nothing seemed to work, and she was desperate. One day, while I was at school and she was home alone with her thoughts, she lay stretched out on the couch, trying to rest. It would be years before she told me what happened next. Suddenly, two angels appeared near her feet. They stood there silently, glowing in a magnificent light. No words were spoken. They were there to comfort her and let her know she wasn't alone. Then they vanished. My mother realized that everything would be alright, that things would turn around for the better—that it was all part of a greater purpose. God would eventually use my loneliness to draw me closer to Him.
When my mother prayed, it was like she dialed "L" for Lord, and He heard her prayer! I wish I had done the same. While I've never seen an angel, I have no doubt that my mother did. It would be many more years before I learned to pray as she did, but first, I had to truly get to know and believe in God. My mother's prayers for me didn't go unanswered. Life was about to slowly turn around for me. And this also meant a much better life for my mother—she truly deserved it for putting up with me!
(Psalm 91:14-15) "Because he loves Me, I will deliver him; because he knows My name, I will protect him. When he calls out to Me, I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver and honor him."
The next post titled The End from the Beginning begins at:
Absolutely love your writing Bob. I believe I know the Laura and Kim you refer to. Good is great.