Welcome to Musings of a Misfit

Have you ever felt like you don’t belong? Like the whole world is in on the same joke and you’re missing the punch line?

I’ve felt that way for a long time.

Growing up as the youngest of six girls, most of my sisters had already moved out by the time I was old enough to remember much. On top of that, we moved about every other year. Each move meant a new school, new classrooms, and the quiet challenge of trying to make new friends.

It was hard. Every new beginning felt like another tap on a chisel, slowly shaping me into an introvert, a quiet observer who watched more than she spoke.

I also grew up in a very religious household. My parents were deeply faithful and committed to their church. Sunday mornings and midweek meetings were simply part of life. There was something for every age group, and many of the values and lessons I learned during those years still mean a great deal to me.

But even as a kid, I had questions. Deep ones. Questions that didn’t always have easy answers. Questions that didn’t always feel welcome in the spaces I was in.

One day, as a curious preteen, I asked a question that nudged against the edges of everything I had been taught to believe. I won’t share the exact question here, but it was the kind that makes people a little uncomfortable. I’d love to share more about this in later posts.

The answer I received was probably the best one the person could give at the time, but it left me unsatisfied. Something about it didn’t sit quite right with me.

Looking back, that moment felt like a fork in the road for my faith.

I chose the road that asked more questions.

I’m glad I did.

God has led me down a path I would never regret. Along the way I met my husband, my best friend, and together we’ve spent years asking deeper questions and exploring what the faith God is calling me into is actually supposed to look like.

Sometimes that journey has been lonely. Other times it has been filled with deep friendship and joy.

There have been seasons where everything seemed to make sense, and then suddenly, it didn’t. And just like that, I was on the outside again.

Isn’t it ironic how the more we search for answers, the more questions appear? And questions can be uncomfortable. Sometimes they’re uncomfortable for others. Sometimes they’re uncomfortable for us.

This cycle of exploration has become a familiar rhythm, one that finding unpopular answers has only deepened, continuing to shape this sojourner.

It is reminiscent of being that little girl who was always the new kid at school or the new face in Sunday school. But part of it also comes from a lifetime of sensing that there’s an expectation for how I should think, what I should believe, and even how I should lead, when I was afforded the opportunity.

There have been times when people we loved, people who felt like family, quietly pushed us aside because our questions or conclusions didn’t quite match what made people comfortable.

Even now, I sometimes walk into a room and wonder: What if these amazing people knew what I really think? What if they knew what I actually believe?

I still feel that way with my sisters sometimes. With new friends. Even with coworkers.

Am I the only one?

I doubt it.

My hope is to become someone who embraces the parts of me that don’t quite fit the mold. Someone who is willing to use her voice, even when it feels risky. Someone who makes space for questions instead of fearing them.

Maybe you’ve felt this too.

Maybe you’ve wondered if your questions are too big, too strange, or too uncomfortable for the places you’ve been.

Maybe you’ve felt like you don’t quite belong because you don’t fit the traditional ideals.

If that’s you, maybe we’re not alone after all.

Maybe we’re just a group of misfits trying to figure it out together.

So, in the spirit of the playgrounds, classrooms, and Sunday school rooms where I was always the new kid, I’ll start the way I wish I had back then.

Hi.

My name is Jane.

Want to be friends?