Julianne

Sometimes I wonder about things. Unfortunately, I often wonder aloud and get, well, looks from people. Or pause, I get pauses. My sisters tend towards a "here she goes again"" attitude and while they don't actually do it, there is a whole sense of them rolling their eyes.

I have dealt with a lot of eye-rolling behavior over time. It often turns into an avoidance of me, a desire to be "not with her." And sometimes I feel lonely.

God, the Bible states, puts the lonely in families. For a long time I thought that meant God placed a feeling of loneliness in a family, and wondered why He felt this was necessary. Isn't this world lonely enough? It feels that way sometimes, especially if you're a weirdo like me. But in amongst all the loneliness, I was never truly alone. If you're expecting me to say I had Jesus, well, that's true. But it wasn't something I grasped in grade school. But I did have Julianne.

Julianne wasn't a close friend. She was a girl in my class who we all pretty much liked. She was pretty, even-tempered, and upbeat. She had a generous spirit and I learned this after she heard me sing a favorite song of mine. "The Wild Colonial Boy" was one of my favorites of the Irish songs and I knew every word. I loved the story of that wild rogue, Jack Dugan. His parents thought the world of him, yet he left them behind to follow his own path, wild and alone, a criminal. I am not sure why I liked him, though the song does suggest he was something of a Robin Hood, robbing the rich to help the poor. Anyway, I enjoyed the tale of Jack Dugan and I sang that song regularly.

One day, I sang it for Julianne. Why I did it, I don't know, but she loved the song, too. Even better, she loved hearing me sing it. I liked to sing, but never heard much praise if my voice. Julianne though I was a great singer and let me know. Every once in a while she would seek me out and have me sing "The Wild Colonial Boy" again for her. It was, I will admit, rather gratifying to be asked. Not that I understood why she wanted to hear it. My voice wasn't great and the song itself was somewhat weird for a grade school girl to count as a favorite song. Julianne didn't care. Embarrassing as it was to have her ask me to hear the song again, and as much as I tried to beg off, she never accepted my refusal. So I would sing "The Wild Colonial Boy" for Julianne, and she would light up with happiness. Julianne's face would simply glow with pleasure, and I would walk away encouraged and happy myself.

Julianne was a joy spreader. You meet them sometimes, someone whose happiness is contagious, and they share it with w erroneous they meet. Some people are resistant and some immune, but without Julianne and her partners in joy, the world would be a sadder, darker lace.


So what does this have do with loneliness? Just this: when God sees you encountering a spirit of loneliness in your own biological family, He broadens your family. I used to hear from my sisters---the eye-rolling ones---the flag statement "You can't sing." I believed it, and the sadness I felt at my inadequate voice tainted my joy in singing. But Julianne never to,d me I was inadequate. She rebelled in hearing that one song. And the loneliness I felt from some of my family in enjoying my voice was counteracted. Those repeated, careless remarks never completely eradicated my confidence, because I had Julianne lighting up with happiness every once in a while to encourage me.

I haven't seen Julianne since I was about thirteen. She's still out there somewhere, lighting up the world with her bright spirit and proving that when your own family doesn't understand, God broadens your family to include people who do. And shows you don't have to be lonely. Just as He wants.