Forget the Fruity Drinks, This Is Belonging

When people hear I am doing a book tour for Picking Dandelions, their eyes seem to enviously drift off as if imagining me lounging on a beach side chair, drinking a fruity beverage, and telling stories to a group of locals under the sunshine.

In reality, the only part of that they should envy is the locals, who always stir my heart with their stories about what they’re learning in their corner of the world.

The rest though–the exotic travel; the jet setter life–is non-existent.

I board seven hours of flights to land myself in the beautiful Cali, only to wave to the shadows of palm trees against the night sky, collapse into a hotel bedroom in a different time zone, wake up the next morning and deliver a talk, and be ushered back to the airport the minute I walk off stage.  I am whisked back to Michigan before my mind becomes fully aware I set food on the west coast.

What makes the whole thing mildly wonderful is my traveling companions, the late great (and only) hubby, Chuck, and the tiny ruling emperor-on-wheels, Justus. To Justus, the airport is the equivalent of an amusement park. He cannot take his eyes off all the moving sidewalks and finds the brightly lit mall-style storefronts to be as captivating as Paris in the springtime. He even giggles when the security lady pats his diaper for…well, whatever peach-delight baby food contraband they are worried 10 month olds sneak onto planes.

(I’d also like to give a shout out to my coolio piece of luggage, the illustrious laptop backpack which may someday warrant its own blog tribute.)

Fortunately Chuck and Justus can travel with me for more than 80% of my engagements. This makes the travel more of an adventure, but still short of the fabulous vacation getaway people project onto me.

It is actually, truth be told, the nearby engagements that mean the most to me. This tour, for example, launched at Westwinds Community Church, the site of my 1st job at age 20. And I proceeded, in the book’s first month on the shelves, to speak at my current home church, Rivertree; my dad’s former church (in which I was a charter member), Cornerstone; my dad’s current church, Amazing Grace; and my college alma mater, Spring Arbor University.

These places are ordinary and familiar.

No palm trees or fruity drinks involved.

But the fact that I can ease in and out of each of them, revisiting moments of my past and reconnecting with my distant faith communities, is a part of what keeps me grounded…as well as a part of what allows me to fly free with ambition.

I know each stepping stone along the way has added value to my life.

Rather than having to disconnect from one life stage to embrace another, I have valued stringing my life experiences together and have worked hard to maintain positive relationships with the people and places who have marked my journey.

It has not always been easy. But I cannot afford to run from what has made me who I am. It is a vital part of who I am becoming.

This, for me, is a tiny slice of wisdom that adds solidarity to my little life, which helps when I occasionally drag it through some sort of dramatic ruckus.

In the end, I’d take a good hometown crowd over California everyday.

Because this is home.
This is family.
This is belonging.

What about you? Have you been able to hold onto ties with previous communities? What wisdom have you gained in doing so? And if you have lost ties, what might be gained by reconnecting?