Belonging is at the heart of human relationships—it is essential to what we are doing here,  building a community that sustains life on earth.

You might say it is the soul of the human race: “It is not good to be alone.”

Or you could listen to how Brene Brown says it: “Connection is why we are here. We are hardwired to connect with others, it is what gives purpose and meaning to our lives, and without it there is suffering.”

Belonging begins for every child in those relationships where their physical needs are met, usually their parents. That sense of belonging within family is primal and when it is given sparingly or on conditions that are hard to achieve, it produces pain rather than the delight we are made for.

Connection and trust in childhood begins with food and basic care, but it is developed and becomes endlessly richer by the sharing of language.

Communication.

Family jokes, sayings, and familiar prayers all create a culture that says “we are us.” Or as Ellen Pompeo says it as Meredith in Grey’s Anatomy, “You are my person.” We belong to each other.

Sometimes we move our families out of their familiar “nest” of neighbourhood, home, routines, friendships, and relatives—and take them across the world for any one of many possible reasons.

But if a new job in a new location and a new set of challenges distract mom and dad from the family’s needs, children may see the new language and culture as something to be feared or rejected.

It helps if the new language you want to embrace becomes a part of family fun and culture despite the many changes.

Bring a few special words that might not exist in your “mother” tongue into the house and play with them…engaging the language as a family, as a community, not just as serious students.
For example, when our family moved to North Africa we discovered the very wonderful word “shleka” for all slip on shoes. Say it out loud once and see what I mean…could there be a better word for floppy foot wear you “shlek” around the house in? And we could easily have used the word “squeegie” for the thing we cleaned our tile floors with—close enough to the gas station window cleaner but on a longer stick. Instead we adopted “seleta” and used that word for years even when we moved to another town that used a different word. “Seleta” was “our” word.


Most important of all, we needed to learn the local polite phrases for the sake of social integration.  So to practice them, we used them even when we were alone. “Bishfeh” when you gave someone a drink, and “Yishfik” in reply. There was also the very fun word “SaHa.”—you said this after someone had eaten or enjoyed a drink—could there be a better sounding word for that? Then we learned how to say it more specifically for other times, in response to a nap, a haircut, or a new purchase—we needed to say this to be socially appropriate. Practicing at home was part of the fun.

It’s a good idea to incorporate these words in a fun and playful way because it connects that sense of belonging to the new language, inside the safest place for a child to learn anything—home. 
At this time our kids need more than ever to know that they still belong: that this set of family connections will never be broken. This becomes their stability in the crazy whirl of leave-taking, travel, and re-settling. A maze of broken connections requires the central anchor of family to remain more reliable than ever before.