One Small Step

We dispel loneliness with regular, consistent, small actions

If you’re older than I, you remember that unbelievable day — July 20, 1969 — when a human first stepped foot on the moon, an event thought impossible only a few years earlier.

“This is one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,”

said astronaut Neil Armstrong, in words that continue to bear an important message: in order to leap forward, we must begin with small steps.

While this Substack has its nexus in my bereavement journey after unexpectedly losing my beloved spouse of nearly twenty-nine years, I continue to realize how transforming this experience is for me. Without my knowledge or consent, death crept up on the back door of my life, shattered the glass of my contented world and stole my most enduring relationship from me. Like anyone who has experienced a personal invasion, death has robbed me, and I feel in turns violated and angry that my very ordinary but quite happy life is no more.

And, like anyone whose life has been so radically changed, I have a choice — minute-by-minute and day-by-day — whether to be a victim or a survivor. While my late wife was married to a person who by nature can cultivate victimhood with great finesse, I was married to a woman who was a survivor, or as she might have put it, “an overcomer.” Claudia was indefatigable, unrelenting, persistent and vigilant. If I truly mean to honor her memory, I must honor myself by stretching forward as well.

In most ways — four months into my grief — I feel good about my progress. I am able to tend to my daily tasks, joyfully embrace the new community in which I live, be in connection with my adult children, grandchildren and extended family and competently lead and serve in my pastoral life. Love continues to beckon me forward, and I open my arms trustingly to receive Love’s daily kindness.

But I am still lonely. It’s not all-pervading, and it’s not debilitating, but it is there: the to-be-expected void resulting from the absence of the one with whom I shared life for three decades. In my better moments, I am grateful for the pain because it is an acknowledgment of her importance to me. If I felt little or nothing in the wake of her death, what would that say about the marriage we shaped together?

If it took thirty years to cultivate the relationship I now grieve, it will assuredly take time for me as I continue to move into my new life. I am sagacious enough to realize that combatting loneliness is a regular, albeit tedious, one-step-at-a-time kind of thing. For those of you struggling with loneliness, here are small steps I am finding helpful:

• Reconnect with friends from your past. I have been overwhelmed by the kindness of those who have known me over the years. As word spread of Claudia’s death, I began to receive texts, calls, emails, FaceBook invites from literally hundreds of people who knew me or Claudia over time. I receive each of those offers of care with gratitude, and I want to be open to continuing the conversations and deepening the ties. Every day I have the opportunity to share life with lovely people; I am so grateful.

• Decide to be the presence for others that you seek for yourself. Last night my church hosted our area’s Tuesday’s Table, where people in the surrounding communities come together for a church-prepared meal and conversation. My congregation’s hosting efforts were empowered by an exceptional team of volunteers, led by a gifted retired project manager. Our guests were seated and engaged in conversation with one another as our church hospitality specialists served each one with efficiency. In a matter of minutes our eighty-or-so guests were enjoying dinner together. I had the opportunity to meet one of our long-time members (who no longer gets to church in-person), the mother of a former ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church of America) Bishop, and three women who extolled for me the virtues of their independent living community. We shared our stories, enjoyed the food, and within an hour’s time were back to our regular lives. I left as I hoped the other guests left, with not only our appetites sated, but with our need for others fulfilled, at least during our time together.

• Learn to talk to strangers. I’ve pontificated about this before, but I’ll say it again: in our lonely, disconnected world we need to learn to talk to strangers. Not in creepy, inappropriate ways, but in neighborly efforts to be human together. On Monday I needed to obtain a rental car because my vehicle is currently in the shop. In small-town Minnesota there is one option to do so, and after a number of attempts I was finally able to procure a rental. It involved the young manager picking me up at my home (since I was car-less), to bring me to the business to finalize paperwork. In less than five minutes I learned about his early life growing up on a farm near North Dakota, his college experience, his life as a rental car manager and the most recent issues with a vehicle. While we won’t ever be friends, we can be good “neighbors,” and I left the brief conversation feeling more connected in my world.

• Receive with gratitude and be open to expand the efforts of others in your life. When someone emails you, respond with more than a perfunctory sentence or two. When you get a text, envision the person’s face and voice and engage in conversation (respecting, as best you can, the need for brevity or the opportunity for expansion). You get the idea: take time to savor snippets of connection with others, and allow yourself to imagine how each small connection is being woven into your new life’s quilt of comfort.

• Explore a new interest or deepen an existing one. This will be nerdily personal, but in the interest of authenticity let me share two existing and one new personal interests that are helping me move beyond loneliness.

  • A few weeks ago, knowing I would move to Minnesota and recognizing my need for others, I decided to go old school and become a pen pal. Yep, that “thing” of the 1960s and 1970s (before the advent of the internet) is still a thing. I applied and sent my fee to International Pen Friends and received my ten potential “pen pals,” all of whom I have written an initial letter. To be clear, this is not some kind of dating service; it is strictly a way for people around the world to connect in a slower, pen-and-ink kind of way. I have now been in letter contact with two of the ten, one from Maine the other from New Jersey. There is something about the entire snail-mail process that is calming and reassuring.

  • So let me go one step nerdier: I am a life-long postal history and stamp collector. I collect the world and the process of acquiring, sorting, identifying and organizing my collection gives me a sense of peace and completion on a regular basis. I am in regular contact with hundreds of other hobbyists worldwide, and while these are not deep relationships, they do help me feel better connected to the world around me.

  • And finally, let me go aging-nerdier: I have decided that I will purchase an E-Trike so that I can begin to navigate many of the beautiful biking trails that Minnesota offers. Within five minutes of my home I can be on a bike trail that takes me more than twenty paved miles through several small towns. I feel fortunate to serve in a Conference (what United Methodists call our geographical areas) that identifies clergy wellness as a priority, and I have received a partial grant toward the purchase of my new E-Trike. (Because I do not have sufficient balance to ride a regular bike, I need this option). Getting out into nature, acquiring new exercise habits and meeting others are all possibilities with this new acquisition in my life.

As you can see, individually these are each just very small steps. Chances are no single step will fully address my need for others, but together — taken as small steps, one at a time — I am confident they will help me dispel (or at least quell) much of my grief-laden loneliness.

What small steps are you taking to help you leap forward in your life?

I’d love to hear about them … comment here or email me directly at ballenfletcher@gmail.com!