"Ah, look at all the lovely people..."

I need to get out more. That's what I've decided. When I realized that spending the entirety of Sunday evening playing violent video games with friends was the *best* time I've had in several months, this became clear to me.

When I blog-hop to fill the void of actual email, there's a problem.

But where did this begin? I was always outgoing and gregarious in high school. Although many "friendships" were merely acquaintances with the added convenience of non-stop proximity, I did have several stronger relationships. Some of these people I see time and again. Some I've lost completely.

But then, there's always college, right? The parental adage, "You may keep one or two friends from high school, but most of your lifelong friends will be from college." Is this true? In my experience, not so much. It's not that you have any less important and dearly-loved friends in college. Rather, it's that you all are on the verge of running headlong into life. At the risk of sounding overly cynical, it's like the soldiers on the boats speeding toward Omaha Beach. Once the ramp drops, you can pretty much count on not seeing the guy next to you ever again. To the few that survive and succeed, more days, successful or otherwise. To the rest of us, red tide and triage. (how's that for a sunny take on young adulthood?)

I have lost contact with almost everyone from college. Well, that's not entirely accurate. But I have lost my relationships from college. Every time I went up there after graduation, I had to reacquaint myself with all my former comrades. At first I enjoyed "quasi-celebrity" status, being regaled over chinese food with stories of favorite shared memories and former glories. But then, with each passing visit, it seemed more like I was doing guest spots on Hollywood Squares. "Hey, you remember that guy? He used to go here. I can't think of anything off-hand that he did, but I do remember his face, kinda..."

What is Dave trying to say? Well, lemme cut through all the depressive, overly cynical Edgar-Allan-poo to get to the point.

It's easy to get depressed. It's easy to sit back and complain and moan about how your life didn't turn out the way you wanted it to. I know mine didn't. It happens, and quite often, from what I gather. The easy part is to let your doubt and confusion and loneliness overwhelm you.

I have lost contact with all these people that I had at one point or another sworn never-ending loyalty and friendship to. I promised many that we'd stay in touch, always, and that we'd never lose what we had. And here I am, months and years later, wandering around from one old friend's blog to another, hoping, geez, praying that someone somewhere will mention my name. Proof that I am not forgotten.

But I keep forgetting the most important thing.

God never forgot my name.

And do you know where my name IS written? His book of life.

If you are a believer in Christ, so is yours.

I'd rather have my name in God's book and my face in God's mind than all the name-drops and tributes and visits and warm wishes of anyone I've ever known.

But it's easy to forget that. It's even easy to shrug that off. To say, in essence, "so what." Of course we never would say that out loud. But our actions would. Our attitudes. Our accusations to the Father, for taking us to such a lonely place in our lives that we feel everyone has forgotten us. Like Elijah in the wilderness, telling God that he's the only one still following Him.

But God's reply is simple. You're not alone. If you're part of My family, you have brothers and sisters. But most importantly, you have Me.

My favorite song by the Beatles is "Eleanor Rigby", as you may have surmised by the title of the post. The question that song asks is one that my heart has been asking for the past seven months: "All the lonely people, where do they all belong?" And finally, now that I'm starting to listen, I can hear the answer, whispered lovingly from the throne of Heaven.