We write so we can understand what we lived today.–> Click to tweet.

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I lived some kind of wonder today. I couldn’t put it into words. So I invited a friend, and a word sister if maybe she would.

This is my first guest host for Five Minute Friday. My favorite hog farmer’s wife, my room mate in Guatemala when we blogged for Compassion International, my house guest who slept on my sofa, my favorite stay-up-all-night-talking sister.

Won’t you all leave a big and beautiful welcome to our dear friend Ann Voskamp in the comments today?

After a nearly 20 year love affair with America I became one of her citizens today. It was a beauty, standing in a sea of immigrants all seeking home here on America’s shores. I cried, I hugged the moment tight to my chest and then we came home and threw open our front doors to everyone we’ve known the last five years. I’m left speechless.

Thank you Ann for putting words to what it means to Belong.

On Fridays hundreds of writers gather here to put words to their days. You’re welcome to join from your blog, your pen and paper, your thoughts left below in the comments. As long as you write. From anywhere – your desk, your phone in the car pool line, your rocking chair with the baby in your arm and you typing on your computer.

How to Join:

Want to know how Five Minute Friday got started and how to participate? All the details are here.

Featured Five Minute Friday:

And every week I’ll pick a post that caught my eye and share it down there in my side bar – see where it says “Featured Five Minute Friday”? Yea -that could be you! Hop on over and visit some folk who make fireworks in just five minutes. They inspire me.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on the word:::

Belong…

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GO

She had never felt like she had really belonged anywhere.  

Crazy, how the sharpness of that pang could hit her in the express checkout at the grocery store, standing behind that lady smacking her gum real loud. Or sitting there at the hair salon, looking into the mirror at all the other women looking into mirrors. Or in the shadows at the kitchen sink, after she turned off the last screen, and stood there wondering who she was and if she ever would find her real self.

Or maybe, really, it wasn’t so much that she didn’t feel like she belonged anywhere — but  that she had never felt like she really belonged to anyone. That anyone longed to be with her.

That was it :  That for all her yearning to belong — what she wanted was someone to long to be with her. 

That was what the ache of all her life had been for.

Sure, she had got on a million planes, wrestled with stuffing bags into a thousand overhead compartments — but when had she realized that you are never really travelling unless you have a home? If it wasn’t for a place, a people, a Person, to return to, all roads are but a lost wandering.

If she could only return, from Bill’s Corner Store, from Mainly You Hair Salon, from the the cyberscreens, from across the ocean, to someone who longed to be with her — she belonged.

Why in the world was it that she caught her reflection in the smudged window over the sink that evening, right then, and the realization of it caught her in the moment and returned her — that wherever she was, however she was, SomeOne did always long to be with her.  Belonging wasn’t about some club, or cool clique, or country — belonging was about Christ. Who never stopped longing to be with her, who said she always belonged because she was always His beloved. 

No matter how many days she felt lost in her  own skin, no matter how she struggled for breath in her lungs that didn’t hurt, that didn’t make her ache, no matter how she kept looking for a home and a place of her own and to be known and roots that would never let her go —  there was always One who longed to be with her — so she belonged.  

Crazy — a holy epiphany over a sink of dirty dishes and tomato sauce smeared across the counter, her reflection there in the window.

You never belong until you believe you do.       

And it’s only when you believe you belong, that you believe you are beautiful.  

And she stood there looking at her reflection in the window, His presence all around her —

and all the beautiful unfurling on the inside of her like tendrils of roots wrapping round everything and being held.

::
STOP

{If you’re reading in an email, just click here to come over and play along; bottom photo with grateful thanks to Jessica Turner.}

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