Re-Discovering my Belovedness in a Season of Longing
In the heart of the pandemic, I found myself settled in my living room. I curled up in the large, round rattan chair where I sometimes sit to read, sometimes to think, and sometimes to pray.
Amid lockdown, this was the room where I spent most of each day, connected to others only by the small square boxes on my laptop screen.
While at home, I found myself with a paradoxical longing for home.
The second-hand, rattan chair where I pondered and prayed reminded me of an earlier home in Cambodia, where I read and studied in a chair with the same round form.
The boxes on the computer screen connected me with friends from across the country and around the world. While connected, they seemed far away, and I wondered what it would be like to be back together, sharing proximity. The living room where I now found myself, oddly, was inside of the home where I had lived longer than any other place in my adult life.
Why did I still long for home?
The years have taken me to different countries, different homes. Each home brought gifts, friendships, and deep learning. My present city and apartment seemed somewhat accidental; a place I was drawn to, a place that never quite felt like home.
I was restless, making life changes both small and large.
Underneath this anxious movement, I wondered if the next change would lead me to a place that felt like home.
A home would mean belonging.
A home would mean belovedness.
As I sat in the rattan chair, I hoped that this home-yet-not-home place would be transformed, becoming solid ground for prayer.
I prayed, thought, reflected, and journaled through my longing, I realized that my longing for home was really a longing to be loved, without working to earn that love and acceptance.
I considered the roles I had played and the places I had been. I had come to my city with very little and had worked hard to try to establish a life for myself. In my drive to be loved, I worked hard for those I believed could fill my deep yearning for love and belonging. And yet, I found myself empty, my longing growing even deeper.
Finally, I gave up. Or gave in. Or surrendered.
Though still longing, I gave up on my quest to earn belovedness.
I stepped out on a new journey with trepidation, carrying my longing for home with me. Stripped of some of my previous ways of earning and giving, I found myself realizing that what I could do was to stay still and receive Jesus’ love. I felt uncertain and childlike, tempted to return to strategies to earn my place.
Mary Beth Keenan, @mb_keenan.15
My longing for home was not fulfilled all at once; it came little by little.
I found myself continuing to sit with Jesus, even when I had to consciously remind myself that it truly is his desire that I experience his love, that being loved by Jesus is the foundation of my identity and worth.
I also found Jesus introducing me to others who could love me well.
I can’t remember how I first stumbled on the works of St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (also known at St. Edith Stein). As I read, my mind and heart both began to light up. In her, I found the wise older sister and mentor I had struggled to find in person. The spiritual mentor who wanted me to have her wise advice on how to live the call I had been given to teach.
Alongside Jesus, St. Teresa introduced me more deeply to Mary, the spiritual mother who offers continued love, not based on performance but on my inherent worth.
I began to understand that I was not alone each time I sat to pray in the rattan chair. I belong to a family of those who love me, who intercede on my behalf.
It seems almost cliché to write that I found the home I longed for in the Church, and in the Communion of Saints.
I almost feel as though I am proposing an answer to deep longing that is too simple, not accounting for the complex forces that push against knowing true belovedness.
Rediscovering belovedness did not erase the effects of past traumas, the desire for reconciliation in broken relationships, or the stresses that challenge day by day. And yet, a place that stood empty inside me for many years is starting to be filled with the joy of deeper love.
I still live in the same apartment, in the city that is home-but-not-quite home. In this place, I may never fully understand or be understood. As I grow, living in and living out my belovedness, my longing for home has deeply changed.
I don’t know what your longing might be, or where it may come from. But I do know that you are beloved.
And so, from one sister who has longed to another, I invite you to sit in a place where you can hear your belovedness again – or for the first time. I don’t know where these places will be for you – maybe with the Blessed Sacrament, maybe with Mary’s maternal love, or maybe with a special saint.
And may you know more deeply, more richly, more securely, that you are beloved.
Meet Christina Page
Christina is most at home when teaching or finding herself nestled in a book (preferably theology, though she's willing to read the educational literature required to finish her doctoral dissertation). Born in Ontario, Canada, her journey has taken her to Cambodia and Thailand, before settling on the West Coast of Canada.
Jesus' lifelong pursuit of her has recently led Christina into the Catholic Church. She takes joy in developing intercultural friendships and working to create welcoming spaces for new Canadians. When not located behind a book, Christina can be found jogging in a local park or creating some digital artwork. You can connect with her on Instagram @christinapage23.