Like a wool sweater on a summer beach…

It’s late summer here and you’d never know it by the new offerings at the coffee shops and the stock of sweaters, hoodies and boots in the stores. Fall doesn’t technically start until late this month so I type while wearing shorts and a tank, relish these last “over-hot” days and eek out as much summer as I can from the few weeks that remain.

School has been in session here for almost a month. Are we in the swing of things? Not really. Someday I’ll be the mom who remembers all the things (water bottles! Morning devo! School fundraisers!) and arrives places on time, or early (is that a thing?). Right now is definitely not someday.

As we attempt to gain our school-year “sea legs” and stop wobbling through the change in focus, I think about all the people who are doing the same. This is the time of the year when kids stretch themselves into new shoes, new roles, new schools. Stay-at-home moms find new freedom in maybe a few new kid-free hours each week. First-time teachers burn the midnight oil preparing for the year, then work to cram in all the needs every day. There’s a lot of newness and unfamiliar territory navigated by many right now.

It’s time like this when everyone has a greater chance to feel that “I don’t belong” nagging doubt creep into their thoughts. The odd man out at lunch, the new lady at a Bible study, the new principal at school. We sit uncomfortable in our own skin, longing to feel a part of the group that is so obviously formed without us.

We read posts on social media about how important it is for us/our kids/ our schools to be kind, to be inclusive, to look for the loners. Despite our endeavor to increase our awareness, the itchiness of “one of these kids is not like the others” still permeates.

It was on the phone with a loved one recently that I realized there is purpose to our discomfort, a reason for our longing to belong.

The truth we try to cover

and compensate for is

we don’t belong.

None of us.

We are not meant to feel at home here because this isn’t our home. God never intended for us to feel so cozy here that we would not long for the comfort of His loving arms. For all the times I’ve felt the itch of not belonging, there is comfort in the knowledge that we are not meant to belong here, that we’ve yet to arrive at our one true home.

So while I will continue to walk up to the lone dad at the school function with my hand outstretched in greeting, while I will still sit next to the mom of the new kid on the soccer team, and while I will always feel a little like I don’t belong no matter what, there is so much comfort in the promise of our heavenly home with God. I will continue to seek Him rather than cast my eyes about this earthly realm, sated and satisfied with all the relationships and interactions I have here.

I’m so grateful He put this longing in my heart.