Loneliness as Gift

As I read Nouwen's words about the first and second loneliness in his book, Home Tonight, I didn't feel the old, crippling loneliness, the loneliness that told me and tells me that I'm not good enough, that I'm unlovable. No, what I felt was a desire for the second loneliness, the loneliness that tells me that, yes, I am alone, but that also communicates comfort and peace in that fact, not pain and rejection. If I was not in some sense separate, alone, then I think the word "I" would be a misnomer used in reference to myself. There is something to this loneliness. It is only in this place that You can meet me, and it is only from this place that I can truly meet others. It is a sacred space. It is a place for You and You alone, and I cannot nor should I attempt to open this place to anyone else, for if I were able to do so, if I could accomplish this feat, I would cease to be an "I". Even You don't desire to remove this loneliness from me; in fact, it was You who gave it to me. It is a place only for You, but it is not Yours. It is what You have given me to give to You, the one thing I can offer You which no one else can offer You, and the gift You joyfully accept but do not take from me. It is not "identity" that I am speaking of here, but something else; it is the separateness You have given me, my otherness. I have it in common with all others, but it is uniquely mine. It is loneliness in essence, and this tells me that it is something to be treasured. It also tells me that I must treasure, respect, and protect this loneliness in others. It is hard to speak of because, in a profound sense, I speak of nothing, an emptiness. As must we all, I must find and embrace this in me, for although the words used to describe it suggest otherwise, it is one of the greatest gifts You have given to me, and to us all.