Belong: to fit in a specified place or environment.
When we first moved here, and drove down this tree-lined dirt road, passing deer and fields and open space, our son said, “Mom, do we live in the wilderness?” I laughed. It felt like it a little bit, this quiet countryside tucked away, a long twenty minute drive from town.
The other night I went outside to worship, with my camera. It was sacred. Above the farm to the north, the clouds declared the Creator’s Majesty and the setting sun created beautiful warm hues over the landscape.
We are surrounded. Enveloped by Amish to the north, to the west, to the southwest. Their big white homes, devoid of electricity, hedge us in. As hubby and I exercise, running by in our loud neon colors (while they work in the fields) we don’t look like we belong. They watch us pass…they in their simple, plain clothes.
The farm to the north, where the majestic cloud hovered overhead, they lost their two year daughter in a tragic accident. I walked over last night, plucking a Queen Ann’s lace on the way. Prompted to bring this lacy white beauty to the mother, Sarah, the mom whose arms are empty- missing one of her own. She needed something to hold on to. I pray she can hold on to hope.
We belong here, in the “wilderness” as my son calls it. We learn to love through highs and lows and differences. We forge a unique friendship over fresh produce and curious questions. We wave as they drive by on horses and we pass by with horsepower. We exchange smiles, stares and sometimes sadness. We live under the same clouds that reflect His majesty.