Finding Grace in Enoughness: Reflections on Belonging, Care, and Exile

This week, I’ve been sitting with a lesson that continues to shape my understanding of care and connection: the realization that what I offer may be exactly what someone else needs, even when it feels inadequate to me. In a clinical setting, it’s easy to spiral into thoughts of not doing “enough” or being “enough.”

Yet, I am reminded of the Apostle Paul’s words:"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

This scripture reminds me that care doesn’t need to be perfect or polished to be meaningful. Grace allows room for our imperfections and shortcomings, reminding us that the sacred often works through our vulnerabilities. This is the sacred work of care: showing up as I am, trusting that the Spirit will do what is needed in ways I may never see or fully understand.

This insight connects deeply to Unitarian Universalist values of inherent worth and dignity, as well as interdependence. These principles remind me that care is not a one-way street—it is an act of mutuality and shared presence. The sacred flows between us, weaving a web of connection where none of us stand alone.

But this week also brought me face-to-face with an old, familiar feeling: exile. In my CPE group, I’ve noticed a lingering sense of being an outsider, unsure of where I fit. Is this exile real, or is it shaped by past experiences of being “othered” as a queer, nonbinary person, as neurodivergent, and as someone whose lived experiences often don’t align with societal norms?  Cole Arthur Riley, in This Here Flesh, writes: "To belong is not merely to be seen but to be known. To belong is to be cared for in the places where we are most ourselves."

Her words resonate deeply. My feelings of exile are not just about physical distance but the longing to be truly known, to feel safe enough to let my full self be seen. And yet, exile has its place in our spiritual journeys.

In scripture, exile is often where transformation begins. The Israelites, wandering in the wilderness, found manna and divine guidance in their dislocation. Hagar, cast out into the desert, encountered the God who sees her (Genesis 16:13). These stories remind me that exile is not abandonment—it is often a sacred threshold where the Spirit meets us in unexpected ways.

My own theology, grounded in radical love and sanctuary, calls me to reimagine exile as a space of possibility. As a Unitarian Universalist Christian, I believe that Love—the divine, transcendent, and immanent—is always present, even in our moments of disconnection. Exile may feel isolating, but it can also be a call to deeper belonging: belonging to myself, to community, and to the Spirit who meets me in the wilderness.

This reflection also challenges me to think about how I create belonging for others. In what ways can I extend radical love to those who feel like exiles in their own lives? How can I cultivate sanctuary—spaces where people feel seen, known, and cared for? This is the work I feel called to do, rooted in the Unitarian Universalist affirmation of love, equity, and justice.

Grace is central to this work, and it begins with me. Grace reminds me that I don’t need to have all the answers or perfectly understand every situation. I only need to show up, listen deeply, and trust that the sacred is moving in the spaces between my doubts and uncertainties.

May we all find grace in our “enoughness.” May we create spaces of belonging where exile transforms into sanctuary. And may we remember that Love, in all its radical, expansive beauty, is always waiting to meet us—whether in the heart of community or in the wilderness of exile.