Confession: My 30-year high school reunion was this week, and I did not go.
Horrible person? Vote in.
I saw the names of classmates come up on the reunion Facebook page, but I just kept thinking that after 30 years, I don’t know any of these people.
They don’t know me.
A group of them went past me, on a float in the Fourth of July parade in my hometown, and I still had this feeling, “They don’t know me. They don’t know how I’ve dripped sweat over Spanish curriculum for the last four years or how grief still hits that my dad is gone. And I don’t know the joys and sorrows of their lives.” It felt overwhelming to jump into the group and try to re-establish meaningful connections in just a few days.
(Is my introvert showing?)
So I stayed in my mom’s house, with my husband and kids and brother and sister-in-law and nieces and aunts and uncles who know me.
As I was making the seven-layer dip for the evening of July Fourth, I knew to leave tomatoes off one sliver for my aunt, who thinks they are gross. No one had to tell me this. I knew my sister-in-law would avoid the noise of fireworks at all costs. I knew my brother would bring jalapeños. I know these people.
Just last week, I came across this verse and wrote it on a notecard to commit to memory: “But the man who loves God is known by God” (1 Cor. 8:3, NIV).
Being known by someone is the core of comfort.
When you know your people, it means you know exactly how much creamer your husband likes in his coffee.
You know the look on your daughter’s face when she feels car sick.
You know your mom will be teary every time the color guard passes by.
You know your aunt will be the first one putting suds in the sink after a family gathering.
When we love God, He knows us like this. He reads our expressions and anticipates what we will need. He sees our weak hearts and annoying habits. He knows where we will shine and where we will fail. This is a wonderful, intimate, love-saturated kind of knowing.
I know my website theme says “Know God,” but maybe today, you just need to receive the soothing truth that God knows you.
Author and blogger Christy Fitzwater is a pastor’s wife and Spanish teacher in Montana.
