It’s ridiculous how much just five little words can hurt.

“What are you doing here?”

And it’s ludicrous to think that even now as a grown woman I give those words the same power that I gave them when I was eleven-years-old.

Alongside puberty in a girl comes a painful self-awareness that she is inadequate in comparison with almost everyone else. When I was eleven I lived in fear of someone calling me out of a crowd, of being the center of attention and of people not wanting me around. I was clumsy and self-conscious and never felt like I fit in anywhere.

Before middle school began I tried to envision myself walking into the seventh grade lunch room, searching for a seat and then being asked, “What are you doing here?” By the time I got there, I did find friends but I still lived with the worry of being left out.

I don’t need anyone to ask me “What are you doing here?” because I ask it of myself. What am I doing here? I don’t belong here or anywhere else.

Though no one ever said it quite like I think they will, their gestures, their snubs and their “lost” invitations plagued me in middle school and early high school.

Years later, words like this still have the power they never should have.

I’m by myself at a wedding. My husband, who often plays guitar and sings in friends’ ceremonies, is nowhere to be found. He’s with the other musicians somewhere in the back.

It’s in a garden, a beautiful spread of roses upon roses and I’ve sat down in a chair by myself. The thing is, I know almost everyone here, but we’ve left this church and have moved on. It was a friendly split {on our part} but perhaps unfriendly on theirs? I hadn’t thought so. I’m just beginning to realize that I am not wanted here.

“What are YOU doing here, Sarah?” A woman asks as she comes up behind me before it begins. “I just didn’t know you would be invited.”

Ouch. I have no words so I try to smile.

Several months later I walk through the campus of my daughters’ school. A woman, another mother with whom I’ve been friendly from time to time, stops me in the breezeway.

“What are you doing here?”

Instantly I feel shunned, embarrassed and like I’m in the seventh grade lunch room again. People know me here and I had thought I belonged.

Five little words from her make me feel immediately like an outcast.

This week the theme on (in)courage is forgiveness when community has wounded you.  The only way that I know how to begin the process of healing anything, even the pain of five ridiculously powerful uttered words is to begin to participate in the healing process of others.

So I began to say five other words. Five words with power and intention and life.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

I’m so glad you’re here, I say to friends who step over my threshold.

I’m so glad you’re here, I write when a new reader comes across my blog.

I’m so glad you’re here, is what we say when we meet another couple for dinner and a walk on the beach.

I’m so glad you’re here, I tell my daughters when they wake up on an autumn morning.

And with each positive utterance on my part I am able to forgive a piece of that which has been broken in me.

I’m so glad you’re here. Five different words with the power to heal. These words have the power to override the hurt and pain that comes from not fitting in, feeling as if we don’t belong and from feeling alone.

Today, friends, I’m so glad you’re here. If you’ve been wounded within community, if you’ve been carrying the scars of 5 little words, or if you’ve been cast out of a place of belonging today is for you.

I’m so glad you’re here. I am so glad you are here!

Let us tell one another that we value them, that we love them and that we are so happy that we all belong to Jesus. And by that maybe we can begin to allow the broken pieces inside us to heal.

Can you tell someone today that you are so glad they are in your life?

 

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