The Need to Belong

One of the best years of my life was my senior year of high school.

This might be a bit shocking for those of you that know my story, because one of the most gut wrenching experiences of my life took place that year…I was cut from my high school hockey team.  Okay, saying it was “one of the most gut wrenching experiences of my life” is a little overdramatic, but it was still pretty crummy.  It probably would not have been as big of a deal had I not been on the team the previous two years.  That was a little awkward.  It also threw a giant wrench in my plans to play hockey for Notre Dame, which probably wouldn’t have happened anyways.  But hockey had totally been my thing.  I had never been the smartest kid.  I actually struggled in the classroom quite a bit, particularly math and science (and Spanish now that I think about it).  I certainly wasn’t the most popular kid.  Sure, people knew me.  But they knew because I was good at a sport.  It was one of the few things I really had going for me.  And then it got taken away.  That experience really sucked and was painful, but that year ended up being the best year of my life. 

It was the best year of my life because I had a group of amazing friends.  There were five of us total, two other guys and two other girls.  And we hung out constantly.  I never worried about what I would do at the end of the day.  It was an unspoken rule that we would be hanging out together.  I also never worried about being something that I wasn’t.  I never felt like I had to perform or pretend.  For example, I am not a great singer.  I am not tone deaf per se, but pretty darn close.  Let’s put it this way, you aren’t going to find me entering a karaoke contest or trying out for Idol.  Singing in front of others is scary and embarrassing for me.  But looking back, I had no problem singing around these friends.  I’d even try out my falsetto once in a while.  They knew me—the good, the bad, and everything in between.  They accepted me and loved me—albeit imperfectly.  And it was that way for all of us.  It was a great year.   

The worst year of my life was fourth grade. 

It was a year involving numerous transitions, none of which went smoothly for me.  It started with a change in schools.  Two problems quickly surfaced for me at this new school.  The first was that I was behind academically.  The school I had attended previously simply did not have the same academic standards.  For example, I had no concept of “homework” heading into this new school.  I was totally unprepared for that curveball!  I quickly fell behind and never truly caught up.  The second problem was a bit more serious.  It was the first time I experienced social rejection.  It was a new school with all new kids and I didn’t know anybody.  But all the other kids seemed to know each other just fine.  And for the first time in my life, I was the odd one out.  I was the one that didn’t get picked at recess.  I was the one that couldn’t find a place to sit at lunch.  I was the one that wasn’t welcomed into group conversations.  I was miserable.  This problem only got worse when halfway through the year we moved to a new house across town.  A new house meant a new neighborhood.  And, once again, I was the odd one out.  I remember trying to fit in the best I could in both places.  I tried to adapt my behavior to the behavior of those around me, but I always felt like a poser.  And I think they could sense it.  I remember one day, in my new neighborhood, my new “friends” taught me a game called Smear the Queer.  Kill the Carrier is the more PC title for it.  But you basically tackle (“smear”) whoever is holding the football (“the queer”).  The entire afternoon consisted of them intentionally throwing me the football so that they could tackle me.  It was awful. 

Most days I experience a little bit of fourth grade and a little bit of high school.

There are still moments in life when I feel like I don’t belong, like when I find myself in a conversation with someone and I don’t feel cool enough or I am with someone that I feel is trying to outdo me or compete with me.  Sometimes it’s when I offer my point of view and it isn’t taken seriously or when someone draws a conclusion about me that I feel is misinformed.  Maybe it’s a click that develops between a few people that doesn’t allow room for anyone else.  There are countless examples.  But I still feel it.  And it stinks every time.  The pain of feeling alone is excruciating, and one that is familiar to us all. 

Sometimes I wish I could get rid of these moments.  I fight against them and push them away, as if they could be completely avoided.  But they can’t be avoided.  Not by anybody.  The world is broken.  And so are our relationships.  No one can escape this brokenness.  But we can choose how to respond to it.  I am learning not only to expect brokenness, but to experience it without just trying to get rid of it or push it away.  I am also learning that my willingness to experience pain and brokenness is leading to a more joyful experience of wholeness.

The other night Josie and I were at a friend’s house.  It was a perfectly cool summer night, so we decided to put our kids down at their house so that we could stay for a bonfire.  Best decision ever.  As we sat around the fire, the four of us, eating mellows and swapping stories, I had one of those moments where I thought, “I really belong here.  These people truly know me—the good, the bad, and everything in between.  And they love me for me—albeit imperfectly.”  I almost broke out into my falsetto voice.  These are moments to enjoy and embrace as gifts from God.  

Giving others a sense of belonging is an incredible gift.

Let’s make sure we are generous in giving that gift. 

Let’s give until it hurts. 

Jesus did. 

He gave it all.