Where Are My People? A Blessing for Belonging and Purpose
There are many life questions.
Some will lead you to find sustenance;
some, where to work, where to live,
and some where to grow old.
Your soul continues to live one
question, even when there’s no
apparent way to get your attention:
Where are my People?
For millennia upon millennia,
a sensibility to your survival kept
you close to this soulful question.
Living the question: Where are my
People? helped you to hold the faith
that your tomorrow was more likely
to greet you, when accompanied
by your People.
Those ancient times saw you pretend
less about dangers lurking close by.
Your aloneness knew an impending
peril. A solitary path meant you were
more susceptible to be overcome by
forces larger than you. You carried
your vulnerability and fragility closer
to your chest.
Gradually, you no longer needed to
grow your own food, creating shelters
to protect you from the elements or
some menacing adversary. As your
bodily needs were meant, a veneration
of your self-reliance had you forgetting
to ask: Where are my People?
There is still time. You may be moved
and touched now by this soul question.
It can still make its way to the surface like
the crocus knowing its destination for a
rendezvous with the light. It pushes its
way through hardened soil, sticks
and stones. You may ask, why now?
Why not continue to believe in
the alleged sovereignty of the ego?
Ask now because your life depends
upon it. The soul longs for connection
to your People, where you belong.
Where are my People? invites you
to step into the mysteries of yourself
others, Nature and your God.
The question: Where are my People?
is relational compost. It yields a new
growing season. Your apprenticeship
to loving broadens and deepens.
There are perennial buds of giving
and receiving, the thorns of conflict
are less pronounced as the sweetness
of resolution permeates the air.
Where are my People? This question
guides your aging. You come to know
whom you are meant to serve. Your
gifts find hearts hungry for your offering.
Your purpose loses its opaqueness,
becoming ever so clear with the pulse
of your offering. Your task is to hold
the faith that your People are waiting