november 13 . 2018

Brené Brown is kicking my butt again – as she does.

She’s got me thinking about belonging.

It’s so important to humans, this, being known and accepted, confident that you have a place here – wherever and with whomever here may be for you.

You’re supposed to belong in your family.

You’re supposed to belong in your childhood home.

You’re supposed to belong in your church.

You’re supposed to belong with the people you count on, the ones you lean on, the ones you text in desperation when you need prayer the most.

You’re supposed to belong to your own life, right?

What if you find yourself smack-dab-in-the-middle-of, stuck, irreversibly in motion in a life that you never wanted for yourself? Never pictured for yourself? Observed in others many years ago and thought, God, I hope that life never happens to me.

What then?

How do you belong in a community filled with soul-connections who will perpetually be in seasons just “beyond” you, seasons that you seem to constantly find just out of reach of your own fingertips?

There seems to be a limit to what you can say to each other – a limit to the advice given and received. A limit to the things you are able to participate in – because of timing, because of obligations, because of restraints that are all-too-familiar to you, but are foreign to them. A limit to the invitations you get because you just…

don’t…

quite…

fit.

Belong?

Written with a commitment to post within a few minutes of expression, very little spellchecking, and willingness to embrace the inevitable vulnerability hangover.

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