by Rhonda Rhea @RhondaRhea

I’m a people person. To the extreme. So extreme that I’m often that seriously annoying kind of people-people-people-y person. That one. That’s me.

Every time someone tells me that it takes a village, it doesn’t even matter much what we want the village to do, I come back with an enthusiastic, “Yes! Bring me that village! And all the surrounding villages. Tell the villagers to bring potato chips! I’ll take folks from three or four villages over. And their finger foods. Village-fest at my place, ya’ll!”

The other day, however, after an exhausting, meeting-upon-meeting-filled week, extroverted me said to my introverted daughter Kaley, “I think even I am just about peopled out.” She gave me a sage smile and said, “I’ve never felt closer to you.” And then we had a good laugh. 

 Even in amidst the chuckles, though, I confess I was feeling the need to say to my village something like: Village. You’ve been here for six weeks. All you villagers. Go home. I love you and please get out of here.

Yes, even I, the annoy-o-vert, need a respite from the village. Crowd-loving gal that I am, I require solitude. I can always tell when I’m not getting enough of it. There’s a disquieted feeling that makes my soul a little antsy. Ever get that feeling of inner unrest?

Extrovert, introvert—and any other kind of -vert—we all need the special recharging that happens in solitude. I’m not referring to solitude we might seek just for the sake of being alone. I’m talking about a solitude in which we can spend an extended amount of time seeking the heart of our heavenly Father. We were created for this.

Jesus offered us His example. “After dismissing the crowds, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. Well into the night, he was there alone,” (Matthew 14:23, CSB).

In Luke:15-16 we see that it was something He did often. “But the news about him spread even more, and large crowds would come together to hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses. Yet he often withdrew to deserted places and prayed.”

Villagers pressed in on all sides. Jesus received them, ministered to them, taught them, served them bread, loved them—and worked the blessed plan to redeem them. Yet in between, He still intentionally carved out solitude. He worked for it. Not to be away from people. But to be with His Father.

Anytime you find yourself feeling disconnected from Him—or sensing that disquieted, soul-antsy feeling—it’s time to make the effort to find your solitude. Out with the village. At least for a little bit. In with the God connection. In that wholehearted intentionality, we find we can go deeper with the Father, know Him more, love Him better, seek His heart more fervently than ever. And when we seek, we find. “You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart,” (Jeremiah 29:13 CSB).

There’s nothing in life that empowers us to serve and enjoy our villages like that one-on-one time with our Maker. Charles Spurgeon wisely said, “There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech. We should be better Christians if we were more alone, waiting upon God, and gathering through meditation on His Word spiritual strength for labour in his service.”

Find your solitude with Him. Your village will wait.

I have found that all my villages will indeed wait for me. Not necessarily excitedly, but they wait. Sometimes I wonder, tongue-in-cheek, if every village needs an idiot. Or at least their own annoy-o-vert. Potato-chips/po-tah-to-chips.

Rhonda Rhea is an award-winning humor columnist for great magazines such as HomeLife, Leading Hearts, The Pathway, and many more. She is the author of 19 books, including the popular romantic comedies co-authored with her daughter Kaley Rhea, Off-Script & Over-Caffeinated and Turtles in the Road. Rhonda and Kaley have also teamed up with Bridges TV host Monica Schmelter for the Messy to Meaningful books and TV projects. Along with Beth Duewel, Rhonda writes the Fix Her Upper series, and she also co-authored Unruffled: Thriving in Chaos with Edie Melson. She speaks at conferences and events from coast to coast, serves on many boards and committees, and stays busy as a publishing consultant. Rhonda says you can find her living near St. Louis drinking too much coffee and snort-laughing with her pastor/husband, five grown children, and a growing collection of the most exceptional grandbabies.