It’s Christmas Eve at the House on Humphrey Street; and all of the frenetic rhythms of seasonal preparation are finally starting to slow down. Packages are mailed, presents are wrapped, Jocelyn’s now-famous cookies are in the hands of neighbors, and a fog from last night’s warm front has persisted into the afternoon as if to whisper…

“Shhh – quiet. Rest.”

For the first time in our marriage – even since I moved in as a bachelor in 1995 (barring COVID), we’ll be waking up in our own beds on Christmas morning.

We have friends coming soon to spend the evening with us and stay overnight to experience the delight of Julia’s Christmas morning. The kitchen is abuzz with Jocelyn’s preparations of charcuterie, shrimp creole and breakfast casserole for the morning. Julia is watching her second Christmas movie of the afternoon and I have the opportunity to sit in the cool, gray light of the study to soak in the belonging that’s been a surprisingly emotional and personal journey – one that’s really just begun, if I’m honest.

Belonging…

…that sense of ease where we can be our truest self – is the natural state of the human soul and one of the things our hearts most long for. And it’s probably something we notice a lack of in our lives more than when we’re experiencing it in abundance.

In the natural ebb and flow of in life, we are in a season where it feels like some of those “belonging spaces” are being whittled away. There are a couple of facets of it I’ve been wrestling with lately:

I’m not sure that there are more people who die over the holidays, but we all seem to feel the loss more keenly. It’s been five years since my father’s passing – two years since Jocelyn’s dad. We just found out in the past few days of the loss our nephews’ grandfather. Every year, it seems, we are reminded that our parents’ generation with its childhood familiarity continues to fade.

But there is another. Julia is up to her elbows in middle school now. She has a few rich friendships, but most of the kids she talks about now are those in the special needs community. The day-to-day connections with her elementary school friends have morphed to a quick exchange of “hellos” as they pass in the hallway.

I’ve not met one experienced parent who doesn’t say that middle school is challenging and the toughest season for belonging. Our kids – neurotypical and otherwise – go from experiencing things together as they did in elementary school to pursuing interests individually; and the “sorting of tribes” goes on full throttle.

Don’t get me wrong. The friends from Julia’s “typical tribe” still love her to death; but as the developmental gap between them widens, it takes a little more intentionality for her friends to connect with her. When they do connect, it’s beautiful and humbling to witness – it’s just a little less often as her friends embark on adventures of their own.

Finding a personal sense of self is a natural and necessary part of the game at this age. But many step on a treadmill of personal achievement (and worse – “fitting in”) as the primary answer to their identity and inadvertently push to the margins many rich relationships from years past.

But we’re not the only ones feeling this “middle school shift”. We were with the parents of one of Julia’s friends who has Ds, having dinner after a chilly Halloween evening. Our conversation ranged from the girls’ relationship and school interests, but eventually shifted to the dearth of social opportunities with the larger community – and they asked the question that we all ask at one time or another:

“Can’t the world slow down even a little to include our girls?”

In that moment, we shared the ache of so many parents of kids with special needs; because the answer we seem to keep getting is “no”. We’re relegated to scanning the horizon for those precious “unicorn kids” who intentionally weave connection with folks with special needs into their lives.

Navigating Julia’s social connections and leading myself and other families through the loss of a loved one have been built into my personal and professional life for years. It’s a slow simmer that has kept me thinking – especially over the last year or so – about how belonging fits into the larger picture of our connections with God and each other.

Then came another twist that brought the mental struggle front of mind and forced me into a real reckoning. 

For those of you who have been reading these Christmas Eve posts for a few years, it might have struck you odd that we are home for the actual holiday. With no family nearby, Christmas always involved travel to a place of belonging – previously to the farm where I grew up, but always to extended family. 

That changed with one phone call in early October when my sister shared that she had an invite from the in-laws of her soon-to-be-married son to spend Christmas in sunny Puerto Rico. 

I was happy for her newfound connection; but it was still kind of a gut punch knowing that the place that had become the Christmas “landing pad” after we sold the farm was off the table. Again, it’s a natural migration of families joining and grafting together in marvelous ways and moving on to new adventures. It’s hardwired into the way life unfolds over generations.

It’s not a lot of fun for a dude who might be a tiny bit hypersensitive about it, though.

I did my work. I journaled and processed my disappointment – even in the happiness of my nephew’s marriage. I honestly thought I had put it behind me.

But a few days after my sister’s call, the sadness snuck back in. And as I sat there feeling sorry for myself, a voice in my head broke through…

Cook, at your age, creating belonging is YOUR job.

Okay – message received. You have my attention.

I count few times in my life when I feel like I clearly heard from God, but it most often starts with a scary call out of comfortable familiarity and into mystery, growth and ultimate fulfillment. And when it happens, I have acquired the good sense to keep listening – even if I don’t like what I’m hearing.

So for the last couple of months, I’ve been listening further and asking for clarity. I re-discovered stories in the Gospels and was reminded that some of Jesus’ most life-giving encounters were with people who had no standing in “proper society”…

• A five-time-divorced Samaritan woman living with her boyfriend who had to get water in the heat of midday to avoid the disapproving glares of her village…
• A tax collector fleecing his own people of their livelihood in service of a foreign conqueror (and himself)…
• A woman ostracized from her community because she couldn’t get some personal health issues under control…

And, right after Thanksgiving – in keeping with the season – I read through the first public announcement of Jesus’ birth to a bunch of people considered too stinky to be allowed in the temple and too dodgy to even testify in court:

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” 

The Gospel of Luke 2:8–14

I was thunderstruck when the reality of it hit me. God didn’t pick the “perfect people” to share this good news. He didn’t pick the wealthy or the politicians or the religious elite. He picked “regular guys” (and maybe girls) who hadn’t showered in a while. People who were likely so freaked out at the sight of angelic armies and feeling so out of place in Glory’s presence that they needed to be reminded to pick their jaws up off the floor and pay close attention to an eternal reality and a present invitation: 

They Belonged 

– and were getting insider access to witness Love made flesh.

(editor’s note: It’s an interesting convergence that this story was reinforced to me in a message at my church the week before Christmas. Click here to check it out.)

As I pondered the astounding proposition, I got a better idea of what God had been telling me – and all of us – since time immemorial:

~

You Belong.

I’ve said it repeatedly.

Own that…

Let that truth pierce the defenses you’ve built to protect yourself from the pain of exclusion and trust Me enough to be vulnerable again.

And out of the belonging you have in Me…

…create spaces of belonging for others so that I can be with them more fully.

~

I have a long, long way to go to make it real in my heart and manifest in my life; but if I need inspiration, I need only to look at my kid. Anyone willing to slow down and connect with Julia on her terms will be rewarded with an ocean of acceptance and delight, just for being with her. She’ll remember your name and treat you like a rockstar the next time you’re together. 

In a heavenly paradox, the journey from “fitting in” to experiencing real belonging in my life is in the direction of my teenage daughter with a condition that unenlightened society relegates to irrelevance. 

I pray that you have someone in your life who is seemingly on the margins who does the same for you; but if you don’t, we haven’t found the bottom of Julia’s capacity to manifest love and acceptance. Swing by the Cook house and get yourself a portion.

Merry Christmas, friends. Know that you have always belonged.