Stopping to Home was a book I enjoyed reading as a little girl. It was a story about a young girl and her brother trying to survive after the death of their parents, and it described the ache of the girl yearning for a place to call home.

I couldn’t understand why at the time, but stories of children whose parents died resonated with me a lot, even though both my parents were still living. Looking back now I think it may have had something to do with feeling a sense of emotional absence from my parents even though they were physically present. So even before my mother died I yearned for a place where I felt I belonged.

Throughout the years I have immersed myself in different contexts hoping to find a family, to feel wanted. Churches, friend groups, and cultural festivals drew me in with their appeal for a sense of belonging. I was fascinated with cultures outside my own American culture, because it seems to me American culture isn’t much of a culture at all – it’s a mix of everything. But I found I could just as easily remove myself from these contexts as I entered them, and none of them really seemed to “stick.”

It was only this year that I came to a realization that finally brought me peace for the time being. After much growth and healing I realized that where I belong is in the present moment. Right here, right now. If I can be fully present wherever I am, regardless of what church I attend or friend group I’m part of, I am right where I need to be. And that’s a comforting thought.