Lost and Found: Belonging

There’s a lost and found section in the library where we hold people’s stuff for a while before sending them all down to where the lost and found is for the entire campus. We get a lot of different things from people and sometimes I wonder if they’re not important to them. Drivers’ licenses, certificates, passports, other photo IDs, jackets and sweaters, keys, flash drives, homework, water bottles, lunch bags, phones, umbrellas. Oh, and one time I found a bag of money on the floor beside a chair.

These are important items in my opinion. IDs are of course necessary and should always be kept with care. I live in New England, so jackets and sweaters are a definite necessity. People need their keys for their cars and homes, and they need their homework too – unless they don’t mind redoing it. Water bottles, lunch bags, and umbrellas I guess are easily replaceable, but who has the time? And in this day and age, especially in this part of the world, who can live without a phone? Which college student at least? Don’t even ask me about that bag of money. I’m just sorry for whoever it is that lost it.

Sometimes the owner of these things come back for them, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes people come and ask if their possessions were perhaps found and turned in, but we don’t have anything for them. People lose things a lot. Me too. But I guess things aren’t really that important. It’s okay to lose them sometimes. However, it’s good if they can stay where they belong, or with whom they belong. At least, they’re inanimate, so they don’t have to worry about belonging somewhere. And if they’re not where they belong, then they won’t know, and it won’t affect them.

People, on the other hand, well me, can feel when they’re not where they belong. Not that they can tell where they do belong, but they know when they’re somewhere they don’t belong, or don’t want to belong. I guess when I was little I belonged to my parents. Then I gave myself to God in high school and belonged to Him for a while. Now I’m in a new country and, though some time has passed, I still think I’d feel better in my old one. It turns out building relationships isn’t something I’m good at doing. It’s lonely up here.

I’ve asked God several times why He made me come here. Of course, I haven’t gotten an answer. At first I thought it was to bring Christian light to those around me, but seeing as I’ve lost that light, I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do now. Not that anything I did was working when I did try to spread light. I’ve long given up on that. If I’ve learned anything in the past few years it’s that I can’t change people. Therefore, I have stopped trying.

I’ve decided to distance myself from people. It’s really easy to do that here. I don’t have to think about running into someone unpleasant, and when people ask how I am I don’t even have to answer. As a college student, I still don’t fit into any group with my peers, the same way it’s always been since I started grade school. I remember once in the sixth grade I saw a billboard with some women on it. I don’t remember what it was about, but I was standing on the sidewalk, looking up at the women’s faces and thinking that I was going to be alone even when I got to their age. I told my best friend then, and she said that wasn’t true. That memory came to me the other day, and I wondered what would make a sixth grade girl think that. Why did I, at that age, think that I was going to be alone for most, if not all, of my life? And why do I still feel the same way ten years later?

It’s because I don’t feel like I belong where I am. I don’t fit in, and I feel out of place. I have fun with those I’m around, but I’m hurt by them at the same time, and I don’t know how to deal with that. I don’t know where to hide. I can only put up with it. I hope I’m not waiting for someone to appear and take me away (though I’d love to go off to Spain with someone resembling Antonio Banderas). I guess in terms of religion, or the church, I was lost to sin before I found God. But the God I found isn’t the one I want, so now I’m lost again. Belonging? Nowhere. I belong nowhere.



This is the final part of a three-part series. See parts one and two here.


4 thoughts on “Lost and Found: Belonging”

  1. How long ago did your grandma pass away? (I just finished reading all three of those posts you had linked together since I’d not read them before). I won’t pretend to know how you are feeling right now..you have several heavy duty things all coming @ you at the same time btw. the very last thing you mentioned, reminded me of a verse from a song I made up (I was 19 or 20 @ the time) It went like this: :” Walking down the sidewalk…..Don’t know where I’m going….don’t know where I’ve been…people….they pass me by…Just remember how much it sucked to feel that way….

    1. She died this past November. Those lyrics remind me of some I wrote while I was in high school; something about feeling alone in a crowd. Thanks for reading all three posts btw.

  2. I was the oldest grandchild (and I think my grandma’s favorite) I was close to both she and grandpa, both who lived long lives. It is disturbing to watch someone you know gradually decline to the point where they have to wear adult diapers, and their minds become fuzzy. My dad has said over the years about that process …once a man, twice a child (we start out as babies, and if we live long enough, are like little children a second time.) Here’s an older blog post I wrote to celebrate my grandma : http://ialsoliveonafarm.wordpress.com/2012/02/22/remembering-grandma/ Funny how now that she is gone, there are things I would love to talk to her about. (feel free to delete that link to that post if you want) there is something tacky about people putting links to their own blog post on other peoples blogs sometimes. :-) DM

    1. I wasn’t the oldest and I have no idea whether or not I was her favourite, but she was mine. I was closer to her than my other grandparents. I’m thankful I didn’t have to watch her change, but I’m still sad that it happened. Once a man, twice a child is a saying I’m very familiar with. It always went hand in hand with the case of any senior person becoming dependent again. I don’t have any specific thing I want to talk to her about (yet), I just wish I had talked to her more while she was here. She really did have a beautiful voice, and I loved hearing her stories.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s