Struggling To Fit In

Sunday morning had arrived.

I pulled myself out of bed after a restless night while stumbling to the coffee pot. 
As my fresh cup of delight brewed, I started the wake-up process for my family so we could start getting ready for church. I waited for the kids to shuffle out of bed so I could get them their breakfast while I enjoyed my coffee. 

Nothing felt better than a fresh cup of coffee mixed with the morning sun. 

Kids fed, dressed, and ready to go...
we headed off for the morning service.

Excitement filled me as I awaited to see what the Lord had
in store for this service. He never failed to point out the things that I needed
to work on or to discretely answer my prayers.

My hubby parked the car and we headed inside. 
We were greeted by those holding the door as we passed inside.

I sat my toddler son down and wrestled to take off his coat while I kept his close by my side.
I didn't want him off breaking something or falling down the stairs which led to the basement.
Once we had the coats on the rack, we took our seats and readied ourselves for the service.

My mom, step-brother, and step-dad come in shortly behind us and take their seats next to us. 

Excitement fills the room as my sisters enter and people shuffle toward them. Their joyfulness of my sister's arrival has several turning their heads to see what was going on. See my sisters live an hour away and visit our mom when they can. 

While I sit watching in silenced, they walk to the pew and one sits on either side of me. Still... I'm silent. My husband managed to disappear in the crowd once again. Panic arises when my eyes scan the crowd and I don't see him. 

A voice pulls my attention to the pew in front of us. Another person... excited to see my sisters. She directs her welcome and brief conversation of how she and my sisters need to meet up sometime. Then, skipping me... she talks to my younger sister.

Forgotten.
That's how the lack of a cheerful welcome makes me feel.
I try to push these feelings aside because I know that even though I'm 
invisible to them... 
I'm not invisible to God!

For a long time, I have always been the one on the sideline....
watching.

The last to be chosen.

The one who didn't have many I could call friends.

As I stand on the outside, I want to make myself noticed. I want others to see me. Yet, 
the anxious part of me wants to run. The little voice of anxiety tells me that if people wanted to talk to me... they would... without me forcing it.

I feel anxious when many people are around or a few take notice and make small talk.
Most of these small conversations are artificial. I really don't think they want to REALLY know how I am doing. Because if I answered that honestly, I'd tell them I was a mess.

Then, I remind myself...
it's not the acceptance of the world I should seek.
But that of the Lord.

He is who matters.
He is who loves me.
He is the one who will always be there!!!