Knees in the Dirt

finding seeds of connection in the soil of suffering

A question I have received more often lately is “When did you start to care about community and belonging?”

It’s a weird question for me, because on the most basic level, I have always cared. I have always wanted to be with people and to feel safe, seen, respected, and enjoyed. I have wanted to be wanted. But I have not always pursued those kinds of relationships. I have not always asked the hard and complicated questions stemming from “what does it really mean to belong?” 

For me, the turning point came in a season when I was at the edge of myself, when I felt like I was falling headfirst into an abyss and needed someone, something to catch me. And they did. 

A handful of people did not run from my pain but came and sat down beside me.

They filled my fridge with chicken casseroles and let me cry openly, without apology. They invited my toddler to come play so I could have a few hours to slip beneath the covers and pull the curtains shut in the middle of the day without guilt.

My suffering transformed into a safe space as people moved closer and closer. Dirt once dry became fertile. Because even if they didn’t know the particular grief that burned beneath my skin, they knew the sting of loss. They knew what it was to have dreams ripped out from beneath their feet. So they moved closer, helping me water the soil of my own pain with our combined tears.

That is when I started to take notice.

That is when I began to realize that there is more to being human together than nodding politely as we pass each other on the sidewalk.

That is when I began to see that there is more than community. There is communion.

There is sacredness to be found between us. And often, belonging begins in the spaces where our pain overlaps.

I have not perfected this togetherness thing. Nope. Not even a little. But I have tasted its sweetness enough to know that I want to keep moving closer. I want us to plant our knees down in the dirt and let everything else become like dust. Mere details.

I want us to take a deep breath and let it be awkward, because (spoiler alert) relationships are bumpy. It’s just how they are—all knees and elbows. But relationships can also be exceedingly beautiful. Surprising and abundant and healing in the best of ways.

And if we can find some common ache, some hint of pain between us, perhaps that’s where we can begin. Perhaps, as Susan Cain writes in Bittersweet,

“If we realize that all humans know—or will know—loss and suffering, we can turn toward each other.”

At minimum, perhaps we can become a little softer around the edges. A little more willing to move closer. A little more known for getting our knees dirty.

grace + peace,
Sarah

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Good Things to Pick Up

a weekly short list of what’s pointing me to the goodness of God and warmth of his welcome

An Episode

“Start with Hello with Shannan Martin” on The Next Right Thing Podcast (Ep. 248) - I can count on Shannan to come in clutch when it comes to reminding us what it looks like to be a neighbor in our actual, real lives, so naturally, I loved this conversation between her and host Emily P. Freeman.

Two Articles

“(Even When We Drag Our Feet) Our Hearts Can Be Grateful” - Last week as part of Twyla Franz’ Begin Within series, I shared a story from when I was a teenager and my grandparents built a house next door. I took on responsibility I didn’t want, and like many teens saddled with a situation they didn’t want, I felt anything but grateful.

“We can be an army of wounded warriors—or a collective of wounded healers” is a recent article from Karen Swallow Prior beautifully and thoughtfully articulating how pain can be point of reaching out, that “A wound is, both literally and metaphorically, an opening.” (Plus, she’s cites Henri Nouwen, which is always a plus in my book.)

A Book

Last week, my dear friend Tasha Jun was able to share the stunning cover of her book Tell Me the Dream Again, and I could not be more excited. For Tasha. For this book. For the people who will find their story in this one. Tasha is a soulful writer I am glad to call a friend, so while the book is not yet out in the world, this is one you will want to pre-order (you can do that here!).

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An Invitation

On Wednesday, October 26 at 12 pm ET, I am joining Kristin Vanderlip for her Instagram live conversation series about the healing practices of writing and lament, and I would love for you to be there with us. I think this conversation will tie right into today’s letter.