The Heart of Belonging

It's a July morning. The sun is piercing the eastern sky. While behind me, the tips of the Rocky Mountains are turning pink and crimson.  The birds are heralding in a new day, calling us to arise and receive this wondrous gift.  It the waning darkness of morning, my wife and I waved goodbye to our son as he sets off for California with his older sister and her family.  Noah is going on his first transcontinental month long vacation, by himself.

Noah is our differently-abled son. The medical field calls it Cerebral Palsy.  Noah is non-verbal and non- ambulatory. But, as one of our friend's young son says, "He is the boy who can't walk or talk but can sing and dance." This observant young boy made his assessment after watching Noah McGlynn presents: Broadway; This and That

It is this morning's event that makes me think about belonging.  I am acutely aware of my connection to Noah and my daughter, son-in-law, and grandsons as they leave my field of vision.  There is something quite wonderful about belonging.  I think how difficult it is for those who have never experienced it in their nuclear families.

Belonging is not about ownership.  Noah is not one of my possessions, like my cellphone or clothes.  I belong to Noah.  He belongs to me.  While it may seem as if he is more dependent on me, we are really interdependent.  We belong to each other in a mutually beneficial relationship.  We have a shared sense of belonging.  This early morning parting with my son calls to my mind another time and place of belonging and being a son.

What seems like just yesterday, but was months before, my wife and I spent three wonderful weeks in Ireland.  On one of our many where-does-this-road-go days, we followed what seemed like a sheep path, by American standards, that ended at the ocean.  It was a blustery day. A day not conducive to jumping out the car without proper attire. But there was a silent invitation beckoning me to come to the beach.  It was something forever etched in my memory.

After moments of delightful awe, I stepped out of the car and began my exploration of this "new land" discovered by accident. The colors of the water would have made crayola jealous. The sound of the waves and the blowing of the wind were symphonic melodies to me. Crossing the sand, I walked to the waters edge. I sank deeper into the light gray granules with each step. The sand was pulling at me, grasping for me. It engulfed me in a mystical embrace.  Anyone watching my walk to the water would have only seen slightly indented shoe prints in the sand.

Something else was happening, something primal, something that is measured more readily by heart and spirit than mind and eyes. I was being anchored to the land as I stood at the edge of the water. I was being embraced like a long lost son welcomed back from the sea. I was being immersed, just as if I had jumped into the ocean, with this wave of belonging.  No where else on the face of this planet have I ever experienced this overwhelming wonder of being "home" in a place.  "Being home" filled my heart and began to leak out of my eyes.  The salty rivers bending around the corners of my mouth.

Both my wife and I had a shared sense of something unique and significant about this place.  It seemed so instinctual to build a cairn, a standing stone of remembrance. We found golden rocks that sparkled in the sun as if miniature diamonds were embedded in each one.  It is here, we took one of our favorite pictures from the whole trip.  With our backs to the sea, the shore line of rocks and waving grasses, like crowds of well wishers, welcomed us back to our new home.

As difficult as it was for me to leave the beach on this day, it did not compare to the day we left Ireland to go back to the States.  I did not sleep well and spent most of the night sitting and looking out the window.  It was facing east with a view of Howth and the Sea.  I watched the sun slowly climb above the horizon awakening the land to a new day knowing it was my last on the island which now seemed so much like home. As we headed for the airport that morning, it was very much like this morning in Colorado. Except in Ireland, I would be the son looking back towards the place of my belonging.

Where was I going?  I belong here, here on this island.  This is home.

And so, as Noah was well into the Rocky Mountains on the way to the shores of California, I was torn... My heart's with my son seemingly half the world away.  At the same time, a half a world away my heart's with my home, Ireland.