Little Girl Lost

I have had an epiphany of sorts. I am not quite sure how to articulate this one, so read on with a healthy warning that this one might not come together in a nice little package. I have spent somewhere between 30 and 40 hours alone in a car over the last couple of weeks, and well, this has led me to be a little introspective. I am an optimist. And, in this optimism, I sometimes have absolutely no awareness of what others are thinking. For example, I never feel out of place until someone tells me that I am. As a child of divorce, I was shuttled among many families for the holidays. Never really belonging, but always thinking I did. At least until someone would hit me over the head with the whole bloodline thinking, kindly pointing out that my blood was different in some way. There is a loneliness that runs deep here. Little girl lost. The choice to be different was made for me, you see. I could no more choose my lineage anymore than you could choose yours. I have thankfulness for this gift of optimism now that I see the innocence of it. Or maybe it isn’t optimism after all. Maybe my heart is just made different. Maybe I never needed your blood to match mine to love with abandon. And, for the record, this thread runs through all areas of my life. Not just bloodline. At church, I have experienced this same moment where I think I belong just like everyone else until someone tells me different. Shame on them? No. Coming through a season of great pain and loss, seeing a loyalty of mine that runs thicker than blood being tossed aside can lead to a hardening of the heart. No, not mine. Not if I can help it. You see, it was His mercy that saved me and made me whole, and in kind, it will be His mercy expressed through me to them that will save me and make me whole this time. As I find myself very alone in a new city, I am reminded of the little girl lost. The saving grace is His presence. I once was lost, but now, I am found.