"Get out of here! Get out! Get out! Go away! Go away! Get out!" the little boy yelled as he shooed and kicked the earth at me. Dust and small rocks flew in the air, pattering against the side of my pants.
Tonight, I was walking through Cougar Rock campground, letting people know about our worship services and inviting them to join. Snow-covered mountain peaks rose above the pine trees, creating a beautiful backdrop for a campground flowing with life. There was a frenzy of activity among the campers. Families went about making dinner, playing games with friends, and sitting around campfires. Children scurried about, chasing chipmunks and exploring the forest, making friends with others along the way. I thought about how much better life would be if we lived in communities like these; if we lived by simpler means. If we always lived in tents, that is, if we didn't have big houses to hide in, we would be more apt to get to know our neighbors. If we didn't have flat screen TVs and comfortable Lazy Boy furniture we would be more apt to go out and engage with others.
I was thinking about all of this because most people seem genuinely interested when I take the time to approach them, ask them how they are doing and invite them to our services. A lot of people are struck with such profound curiosity when I walk up to their tents or RVs that I have their absolute attention. Some people are appreciative and some are simply respectful, just saying "thank you." Most of time, they welcome me into their campsite as I approach. They are happy and pleasant because they are on vacation.
However, other people are offended by my presence. They stare at me in disbelief simply because I walk up to their picnic table to talk to them. They look at me like I just shot their cat with a shotgun. These people tend to hold onto their standard levels of privacy and personal space. By walking up to their campsite, I am breaking the barrier of their personal space. Once in a while, someone will make a rude or disrespectful comment. Other times, the dog will do their job. They let their dog bark loudly and constantly while I inform them about our services. One time in Acadia, I approached a campsite as an unleashed dog ran at me barking. The dog, then, proceeded to bite my foot as I tried to talk.
Tonight was even stranger than being bitten by an unleashed dog. I approached a family with a campsite tucked away behind some trees. I introduced myself and a small boy, no older than fours years, came running toward me. He was yelling something but I couldn't tell what. I began informing them about the evening Ranger programs as the boy ran up in front of me. I could hear him now.
"Get off my bow! Get off! Get out!" he yelled. I looked down at him and he was motioning with his hand for me to leave. I paused to look up at his parents so I could see how they were reacting. If the parents supported the boy in wanting me to leave, I would leave. If the parents stopped their child and scolded him for being rude, I would stay. I expected the parents to stop their child and teach him basic manners about respecting people.
Throughout my awkward pause of assessing the situation, the boy continued yelling at me, "Get out! Get out! Get out!" Seeing the parents make no effort to stop their child from yelling at me left me baffled because they looked slightly interested in what I was saying. And so, I continued speaking, informing them about our worship service. I invited them to the service before pausing again to look down at the boy. He was still shooing me with a dramatic wave of both his arms. Only now, he had took to kicking the earth at me. Dust and small rocks flew in the air, pattering against the side of my pants. "Get out of here! Get out! Get out! Go away! Go away! Get out!" the boy continued.
I finished informing them about the services and extending them an invitation. I told them to "have a good night" and I turned to leave. The parents replied with a halfhearted "Thank you. You too." The small boy, still yelling, followed me down from the campsite. He kicked and yelled and, as I looked back over my shoulder, I thought I saw a smirk of satisfaction come across his face when I arrived at the road- the edge of their campsite.
I walked away befuddled and bemused by the situation. So many things had just happened; so many dynamics I will never understand.
While walking away, I thought about how most dogs react the same way when I approach the family campsite. The dog will run up to me barking, thinking of me as an invader to his family and the family's personal space. In the same way, the boy took me as an invasion of his personal/family space. I was an unwanted additive in his idealistically self-centered world. I was taking up his time and I was taking of his space, therefore, I must leave. The most bewildering aspect to me was why his parents allowed him to act in such a way. Hopefully, the boy was not learning how to go about life from his dog; acting on animal instinct.
In the same way, I am often no better than my animal instinct. When I begin to get stressed out or tired, I want to get away from other people. I want to be alone. I see others as an invasion of my personal space and I don't want them to break my personal space barrier.
The problem is that, in these instances, I don't strive for solitude, I strive for privacy. I want to get away from it all but I do it for selfish reasons. I want time for myself when I really need time away from myself. What I really need is time with God.
Solitude is just that: resting in God's presence. It is sitting in quietness of sound and quietness of mind. No external sounds that distract and no internal thoughts that distract. Solitude is waiting in God with stillness. Privacy, on the other hand, is time when I selfishly pursue what I want. I get upset when people invade my privacy; when people break into my personal space. I may not tell people, "Get out of here! Get out! Go away! Go away! Get out!" but I sometimes think along those same lines.
Next time I get upset and want to spend my time in privacy, I will, hopefully, remember the little boy kicking and screaming, "Get out! Go away!" and think of how childish I am acting. Hopefully, then, I will be able to realize what I really need is time with God, not time with myself. Solitude, not privacy.
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