Feeling at Home

I traveled to Blakely this week to attend the funeral for my aunt. As we were driving through the streets of town, I was taken back to a moment in time (or several moments in time) from my childhood. You see, my dad was one of the only members of the family that didn't live in town. Everyone else (except for my Uncle Clarence) stayed there, raised their families there, made their homes there. My dad didn't. So when we traveled to visit my grandmother and the rest of the family, I always felt like the outsider. Let me be quick to say that it's no fault of my family's. It was just how I always felt.

Many of my memories of Blakely involved anticipation. I remember the anticipation of turning on the final road to my grandparent's house. I remember seeing the donkey on the corner where we turned, hearing our family dog bark as he knew he was almost back "home," and looking across the field towards my grandparents' house hoping to get a glimpse of my grandmother on the back porch awaiting our arrival. This was joyous anticipation. I couldn't wait to get there. I loved my grandparent's house. It was where my dad was born. I knew it would be full of wonderful smells of my grandmother's cooking. It felt like my second home. While my mom insisted that I always mind my manners, I didn't have to be on my best behavior there. I could just relax and be myself.

As we were driving down a street in town today, I was immediately taken back to a moment in time that held a different kind of anticipation. Nervous anticipation. In the back seat of my parent's car I was taken back to when I was about 8 or 9 years old. We were traveling down the same street, headed to my aunt's house. I was nervous. I knew everyone else coming to her house would be completely comfortable there. They lived together, saw one another all of the time, all of my cousins when to school together and had lots to talk about, they had the same friends. They thought nothing of just walking in the door. I, on the other hand, stood and knocked. I felt like I had to be on my best behavior, like I couldn't really be myself. Like I had to be the person they thought I was instead of the person I am. I remember having this feeling more strongly when my parents were dropping me off at some family member's house. If they stayed with me, I was okay. If I was by myself, it was a whole other story. I was fearful. Even now I don't understand why I was fearful. After all, these people were my family. They loved me.

My sister wasn't plagued with the same fears. She never wanted to stay at my grandmother's house. She wanted to be with my cousins. She thrived being with the rest of the family. She never has been one to be content just to sit still and she wasn't then either. I remember on several occasions going to my cousins' house to spend the night. I never wanted to be too far from her. It drove her crazy. But it made me feel more comfortable. It made it bearable. Again, I have no clue why I felt this way. My cousins are great, wonderful, welcoming people. They treated me just like what I was...a member of the family. But they were unfamiliar. I felt like I was the only unfamiliar one trapped in the midst of their world. I wanted to feel like I belonged, but I never did. And to be honest, to this day, I still feel the same way. I try not to, but nothing has changed. I stick close to my mom and dad. I am fine as long as they are there with me. Sad, I know, for a grown woman, but those feelings just will not go away.

I love my family. They are dear, dear people. But as I thought about this strange phenomenon in my life today, I wondered if that's how unchurched individuals feel in the midst of the church. Do they feel alone? Do they feel like they don't belong? Do they come to the doors of the church with nervous anticipation instead of joyful anticipation? Do they recognize the kindness of the people there but still feel like an outsider? Do they desperately long for someone to cling to, someone to feel safe around?

And what about me? Do I respond to that longing in the right way or do I overlook them? Do I just go about my business with my friends at my church, forgetting all along that it's not really my church anyway. It's God's church. How does He want me to respond? I know what it's like to feel like the outsider...to feel like everyone else knows everything about everyone else there except for me, to feel like I have to put on an act, to feel like I can't just be myself, to exist in a state of nervousness and fear.

Of all places where people should feel comfortable and loved, the church should be it. But as a member of the church, I don't feel like I do a very good job. I live in my own little world with my own friends and concerns, rarely noticing the hurting face of the person sitting across the aisle from me. Rarely noticing the scared individual who slips in on the back row and leaves as soon as the service ends to avoid the embarrassment of standing there alone with no one to talk with.

I know that feeling. I don't want anyone to feel that way. I must do something different!