What makes us feel like outsiders? What separates us from belonging?
Where and how do we belong?
I was thrilled to move to northeast Ohio 30 years ago to accept my first parish ministry position. Yet after I arrived, I felt out of place, like I didn’t belong. Even as I loved my new job, when I looked around the landscape, I had a sinking feeling I had made a mistake. I kept it to myself, a hidden sadness growing inside me. I thought of the home I’d left behind, feeling the presence inside me of the hills and trees and water keeping me company on morning walks. I ached for them.
Six months into my first year in Ohio, early on a cold Monday morning in January, I was midway between Cleveland and Columbus, driving south on I-71, to meet with my mentor. The sun was rising over rolling open fields, bare trees shimmering, in colors I had never seen and could not name. Filled with awe and wonder, I felt everything opening in radiance and love, around me and within me: this unknown landscape, my sense of belonging, home.
No one ever told me we have to grieve the old landscape, the old home, before we can see the beauty of a new home, before we can allow ourselves to belong. How have you grieved old homes and embraced belonging in your new home?
Rev. Mary
