Stuck

Two years ago I wrote a poem entitled, "Where do I fit?". (Sorry, no I won't let you read it.) At the time I was pretty broken, unsure of who I was and where I fit in the greater perspective of life. I was being crushed under the weight of rejection and loneliness and couldn’t see the path in front of me because of the slump of my shoulders. 

I live in the suburbs where neighbors rarely speak to each other and community gatherings aren’t a thing. Trying to imagine my life playing out differently, I wrote this poem envisioning my neighborhood bounding with life as people sat outside shooting the breeze thoroughly engaged in each other's lives. Though a bit far fetched, this scene expressed my desperation in trying to create a world I felt apart of. But, as the high of my illusions began to fade I was again forced to face the reality that lay in front of me. I was forced to look at myself and ask, “What is really bothering you? Surely living in the "wrong" neighborhood is not the extent of your problem."

Looking back at this poem I understand that my fascination with fitting in was less about the physical parameters of a people group or a community and more about the holes I was trying to fill. I understand that the drywall and sandpaper and spackle needed to fix my holes is found in Christ. As I’ve spent more time with him, a slow journey with ups and downs, I am learning to trade my rejection for acceptance and my loneliness for comfort in Him. Everyday I choose to wait for the Lord to lovingly put me in a place that suits me just perfectly where my needs are met and I am whole. 

(Disclaimer: By no means am I perfect. By no means do I have it all together. I am learning and growing and not completely whole.)