It’s Five-Minute Friday again, and this week we’re over at Crystal Stine’s place with the word BELONG.
Ready … GO.
It’s pushing a trolley through a Cape Town Pick n’ Pay and asking where to find the ketchup instead of the to-MAH-to sauce, calculating the exchange rate between dollars and rands, and wondering how many millileters are in an ounce. It’s signing the credit credit card slip and being asked if that’s really your surname, and then a quizzical look before, “…Why?” It’s answering with an American twang why you have a Tswana surname, and still being unsure whether the cashier believes you. It’s climbing into the driver’s seat on the right hand side of the car, rolling down your window a crack to tip the car guard with a five rand coin before stepping on the clutch to drive your stick shift in the left lane.
It’s that nagging awareness that you don’t really fit here or there, and then the subsequent, beautiful freedom of eyes being opened and knowing that
we’re not supposed to.
As long as we’re living in the in-between, in the already-not yet, in the waiting room between the fall and redemption, we’re not supposed to.
“All I know is I’m not home yet
This is not where I belong
Take this world and give me Jesus
This is not where I belong …”
~ Where I Belong, by Building 429: