Made to belong

The reason I’m thinking on this today is because I saw all of this on the face of my little boy this past weekend.  His auntie from the land of Far, Far Away was here with his two much-loved cousins.  The three of them together form a wriggling, sweaty, energetic little band, ages 5, 4, and 3.

With family birthdays to celebrate and the out-of-towners here for the week, a school fundraising dinner for yet another set of cousins, and a performance at Swingfest by our own Boy Two, the schedule was chock full, and the family minivans barely cooled down before gearing up and heading off for yet another event.

It was at the birthday party for two of our own that the girlies (that would be the three nieces; grades 4, 2, and 1) decided to hold a fashion show and, in an act of stunning generosity, graciously included the three wrigglers mentioned above.

With sparkling eyes and eager faces they came, parading in one at a time.  First came the 3-year-old with a basketball jersey that passed his knees, one strap dangling down his shoulder.  Then came Gabe, our 4-year-old and little caboose, engulfed in a football jersey that nearly brushed his shoes.  We cheered and clapped as the rest of them paraded down the stairs and past the door, sequins and ruffles bringing up the rear.

It was Gabey’s face that spoke.  “Look at me!” it said.  “I’m included.  I get to be part of the show.  Do you see me?”  All of this, of course, with a shy, proud smile.  And atop all of those emotions was this message:  “I belong.”

Today, I give thanks for all the places where I, too, belong.  I’m grateful for the “belonging” that my children and husband have found.  Where they still seek to fit in, I grieve and I pray for just the right spot.

We were made to belong.