Oh, the feeling of not belonging begins early.
I picked up my daughter from preschool yesterday, and I asked her my usual question, “How was your day?”
To this question, she usually gives me a thumbs up or a big grin. But this time, she hung her head and said, “No one played with me today.”
And my heart broke into a million pieces.
Sigh. It starts so young — the need to fit in, to be liked and accepted. And yet the reality is, sometimes you find yourself in a corner of a sandbox alone.
I’ve been thinking a lot about home, finding home — that place where you’ll always belong and never feel left out. That place where your voice is heard and you matter.
What is home anyway? The familiar frame of a little blue house near the California coast? The ocean breeze through your kitchen window? That love worn chair? The smell of crispy chocolate chip cookies and fresh banana bread?
I glanced at my sweet girl that warm early fall afternoon, took her little hand, and fought back the worries … knowing she will be okay.
But in my heart, I understood.
We are not home yet.
We are created for a house not made with hands … we are truly made to belong to Him.
‘Til then, I pray, that there is sweet comfort in remembering this and simply holding each other’s hands.