I never thought that a UFO would teach me one of the most essential things in my life. But that’s precisely what occurred.
It was just another night, one that held no significance. I was tired and overwhelmed by my own loudness when I felt a pull, as if something was telling me to go outdoors and look up. So I did.
And there it was.
It seemed as though gravity had stepped aside, and a vast, circular object floated in the sky. You couldn’t just say that was your imagination. It was bright, solid, and so close that I thought I could see through its skin if I tried. I stopped my heart. I thought for a second that everything else in my life was like that, odd and see-through.
I cried when it went away. It was what I wanted to do.
The Weird Pain of Not Belonging
You need to know how much I was carrying that night to understand why it was important. For years, I felt like I didn’t belong. People at church acted like my questions were an infection. People my age called my sight “a disorder.” I often felt like I was trespassing in my own body.
Being told you’re “too much” or “not right” can make you feel alone. You start to think that everyone else is part of the globe, while you hang like a frayed thread.
I didn’t simply see a mystery when I spotted that UFO above me. I felt like something was telling me, “You’re not crazy.” You’re not the only one. You are part of something bigger.
A Different Type of Belonging
I don’t want to fight about whether science says UFOs are “real.” That doesn’t make sense. What it brought out in me is the point.
When the ship disguised itself and vanished, I didn’t feel dread; instead, I felt a longing for a home that didn’t require me to shrink, a place where my uniqueness was a doorway instead of a burden.
I began to see the UFO as a sign of that world, a warning that we don’t always find our place in. It can arise from strange things, things that can’t be explained, or times that feel like dreams.
Earthly Judgment vs. Cosmic Invitation
Belonging on Earth is not always guaranteed. If you dress suitably, believe the right things, and stay quiet, you’ll be accepted. You can stay as long as you don’t bother the group.
But real belonging isn’t about rules.
That UFO taught me that belonging means being noticed for who you are. It hovered over me, still and quiet, without needing to explain itself or follow any rules. For those minutes, I was completely wild, bright, and unrepentant.
That was enough.
The Surreal Has a Point
People often laugh when I relate this anecdote. I understand. It sounds wild. But the surreal can occasionally communicate things that everyday life couldn’t. It gets past our shields and makes us face things we don’t want to.
The UFO turned into a mirror. It showed me how much I wanted to belong somewhere, not just a little bit or conditionally, but completely. It made me say that I was tired of being condemned for how I heard God, how I questioned things, and how I believed.
That night, no matter how bizarre it was, made me stop looking for acceptance in places that didn’t want me. It gave me the strength to make new places that felt more like open sky than locked doors.
Creating My Own Universe
That’s why I made A Divine Universe for All. It wasn’t about getting a shinier church to replace the old one. It was about changing the rules of who belongs. If a UFO could make me feel more noticed in minutes than a church did in years, maybe it was time to reevaluate where belonging comes from.
It appeared strange to belong to those shows we made. A granny may sprawl out in her chair and feel like a saint. A child may laugh with a dog in a costume and feel like they were part of the group. No one had to hide their differences or work hard to fit in.
It wasn’t flawless. It wasn’t well done. But it was ours. And in its rawness, it held the sense of belonging I had been looking for since I saw that impossible craft.
Belonging Is More Than a Place
I keep discovering that finding the appropriate place isn’t always the key to belonging. Sometimes it’s enough to know that you’re already part of something big, even if you can’t see it.
That UFO made me think about how big the universe is and how it holds every question, every misfit, and every complex human story. If stars can hold galaxies, then there must be room for me. And for you.
Final Thoughts
I don’t know what the UFO was. It could be advanced technology, a trick of the light, or something we can’t even begin to fathom. But it doesn’t matter what you think. What counts is the lesson: fitting in isn’t about changing who you are to fit in with someone else. It’s knowing that you already fit in with the cosmos, even if other people don’t notice it.
So when I feel like an outsider again and the weight of judgment is heavy, I think back to that night. I recall the tears and the whispers. Bring me along. And I smile because it had already happened in a way.
We don’t always find belonging where we think we will. It floats above us, silent and strange, for just long enough to remind us that we are part of something bigger than any door that ever closed.