“Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time, and always start with the person nearest you.” Mother Teresa
I’m uncomfortable walking into a restaurant alone and hearing the hostess say, “Just one?” I remember my waitressing days, being disappointed when I’d get a table of one because it meant a tip from just one.
I recently attended a ballet alone. I was asked the same thing, “Just one?”
My husband and I get a similar question, “Just the two of you?”
I don’t say it, but I’m tempted to ask, “How many people do you require at a table to make you stop saying the word “just”?
“Just” sounds like I’m not enough, like we’re not enough. I question myself and I question us. By the time I’m seated, I imagine at least two of the groups of people I’ve walked by have thought, Surely you can find someone who will eat with you? Why don’t the two of you have any friends?
Is it “just” me who’s bothered by this?
Here’s the thing, though, … I say it also. That’s probably why it bothers me.
When a friend asked, “Who went with you?”
I said, “It was just me.”
Now that I’m blogging daily, my recurring thought is, No one wants to read your 100 blogs posts, especially not every single day. However, one friend sent me a message and said, “I will be reading your blog faithfully.”
One person, just one, assured me that she would show up and be a witness to my writing.
Is one person enough to write for?
The question made me teary. Maybe for the first time since I began my blog a decade ago, I stopped to answer. She is so worth writing for and, if you’re reading this and you’re not her, you’re worth writing for too.
I hope you’ll join the conversation because you and your comments matter more than you know.
In This Together,