I’ve been thinking about my American Girl doll. Well, I’ve been thinking about what it would have been like to have an American Girl doll. The dolls in the catalog, with their accompanying accessories and historical fiction books, represented a world of belonging and adventure. While I never had a doll to call my own, I squealed each time the catalog boasting $100 dolls would land in our mailbox.

Those glossy pages held a world of wonder where I could belong.

While I might not have had a fancy doll, the immersive nature of the books (and the people having adventures within them) transported me. During my childhood summers, I’d lose myself in stacks of American Girl books from the library, journeying alongside Molly in her WWII-era adventures and Samantha in her Victorian drama. Each story was a portal to another world, another time.

I saw echoes of my experiences in each girl’s personality.

In books, I belonged.

I’m not the girl with sunburns and skinned knees reading books in a treehouse anymore, but belonging has been swirling in my thoughts again this summer. As a mom, I slice watermelon and clean up puddles left behind from melting popsicles, and I can’t help but wonder about the shape of the world and my place in it.

Belonging happens in places, yes (shout out to the public library), but the deepest part of belonging happens with people.

As much as I still enjoy immersing myself in a captivating book, I can’t help but yearn for the uncomplicated friendships of my childhood, too. Flourishing friendships as a child, teen, college student, and young adult seemed to happen overnight. But now, with four children (one of whom has significant disabilities), work deadlines, and various youth sports games cramming our calendars, making friends is a different story.

At a recent little league baseball game, I watched how (seemingly) effortlessly the other parents seemed to connect, laughing and chatting like old friends. I wondered, Am I the only one struggling to make these connections? Despite considering myself an extrovert, I’ve found that forging deep connections with others has become increasingly challenging as the years have ticked by. My family moved during the pandemic and now we lack the bonds many seem to share.

Surely, I haven’t been the only mom on the bleachers, wondering how everyone else knows each other.

The moments when I feel like I’m peering into the party instead of being part of it remind me of the power and importance of extending belonging to others. If I heed the call to do unto others as I want to be done to me, I have to remember that belonging isn’t just about being accepted but actively welcoming others into our circles. It’s about swinging the door open wide from the other side, too.

As temperatures rose and we settled into new summer schedules, my husband and I decided to get a pass to the local pool to get out of the house with the kids. As we plopped our towels on the chairs and sprayed sunscreen on small shoulders, we looked around at the little social bubbles. Once again, it seemed like everyone already knew each other!

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness, a sense of being outside looking in. But then, a friendly face recognized my son from school. She not only took time to introduce herself to us but also introduced our kids to other kids their ages. At that moment, I felt a glimmer of belonging, a sense of welcome.

Belonging can unfold in a book, a neighborhood pool, or a worn church pew.

And it all matters.

Cultivating belonging takes time and effort. It might not always look like getting the shiny, expensive doll, but like being tucked away in a treehouse with stacks of books for hours in the golden light of summer. It might not look like an immediate social circle, but like someone going out of their way to say hi and offer a few connections.

We often desire instant community, envisioning it as something immediate and seamless. But just as the books brought me a deeper sense of belonging than any plastic doll could have, our understanding of community often unfolds in ways we don’t expect but genuinely need.

It’s the long talks, the shared experiences, the gentle introductions that write our stories of belonging.

Whether you’re in a season of thriving community or hoping to find spaces where you belong, find comfort in the promise that the One who made you offers the most genuine kind of belonging. In Christ, we have the most profound, most innate sense of belonging. We are known and called beloved.

As Psalm 139:1-3 (NIV) says, “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.”

We can bring our whole selves – our dreams, our failures, our penchant for Colonial-era childhood fiction books – and we don’t have to explain a thing. We don’t have to worry about saying something wrong or being outsiders looking in.

While we might yearn for something we don’t have (hello, matching girl-and-doll historic outfit sets), we can rest in the deepest, truest sense of belonging because Jesus offers His whole self to us – and beckons us to do the same.

God knows us fully and completely. God genuinely enjoys being in our presence. Like being lost in a good book or an unexpectedly delightful conversation with friends, we can experience God’s deep, abiding love anytime, anywhere. This sense of belonging, this feeling of being known and loved, is what I strive for in my human relationships, and this divine belonging is what I find solace in when those relationships sometimes fall a little short.

In the family of God, there are no cliques (or bougie doll clubs). As Ephesians 2:19 (NIV) reminds us, “Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household.”

Jesus welcomes outsiders and those who wonder if they’ll ever find their people.

So, how do we cultivate belonging in our daily lives? How can we, with our busy schedules, foster deep connections and friendships? Here are a few strategies that have worked for me and might resonate with you, too:

1. Look up: Whether at the park, at a community event, or in the church pew, take a moment to be present. Look up from your book (or phone) and engage with those around you.
2. Say Hi: Don’t wait for others to come to you. Channel your brave inner child and be the one who says hello; introduce yourself and make the first move. (It’s often the first step that’s the hardest!)
3. Invite: Whether it’s for coffee, a playdate, or a simple walk, extend an invitation. You might be surprised how many people are looking for connections just like you.
4. Join: Participate in community activities, book clubs, or church groups. Being part of something larger than yourself can help build those meaningful connections.
5. Show Up: Consistency matters. Keep showing up, even when it feels awkward. Over time, these small offerings of presence build a foundation for deeper relationships.

Belonging shifts and changes during different seasons of life, much like the unfolding stories in our favorite book series. Belonging is a tale worth living and sharing, chapter by chapter. It’s never too late to write a new story – your story.

Come to think of it, I might just join a summer book club. 

Listen to today’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast platform!

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