No one likes being in the in-between seasons of life. I might be a justice seeker, but what does that look like when I can’t move, don’t feel well, and am partially aware and partially not?
The in-between spaces of life are often not our favorites.
At Christmas, we remember Zachariah and Elizabeth, waiting years for a child. And then, with a promise, and the priest’s year of silence, that in-between concluded and John was born.
At Christmas we remember Mary, in the in-between as she was unsure if she’d accepted by Joseph.
And then, as refugees in a new land, they waited in-between spaces in the margins to learn when they could return home.
In recovery both emotionally and physically, when hopes have felt dashed, moving forward always includes in-between spaces.
Here is my own poem of my current in-between.
Poem: In-Between
One side or the other
But the in-between is now
Leaving pain behind is lovely
But processing it is not
It’s tedious here.
It’s boring here.
It’s waiting here.
It’s lonely here.
I knew this antsy,
Anxious time would come:
A staple of recoveries.
Just my thoughts and I.
We go running from
Midday to Midnight
Needing to be relinquished in writing,
But my eyes can’t always handle it.
Things to worry about that I can’t change
Things to not control;
it’s not my job.
The depth is like a u-curve,
Deep in layers,
Darker as it goes
Into the undersea
Hoping the surface
Breaks light through
You’d think there would be relief…
I can listen to this
I can watch that
I can read this
Consume.
But those voices do not satisfy,
They aren’t the warm hug.
Someone come entertain me!
Nevermind, I feel too tired.
But then I cannot sleep.
This extrovert is lonely,
But is unsure about anyone.
This Seven is trapped,
Her recourse is so minimal:
My wheelchair pushed around the lawn,
At least there is nature then.
Dr. appointments that take hours
Yet time spent anywhere is
Exhausting
Then there’s this flesh that isn’t mine
And movement of a whale within
My body aches too heavy with water
It can barely be lugged around
Hippopotamus trunks that can’t be bent
Ripped watermelon skin stretching my belly
Dented circles under my eyes
This isn’t me in the mirror, is it?
Appearances aren’t usually my thing
But I find myself shamed
Unable to shake it off,
Undressing the not knowing
How long it will last
And wanting community again
Lockdown has restarted
But mandates don’t come from the State
I feel cloistered by them, caved in
Even wondering how to navigate
Reminds me I’m required to be careful
In a world that doesn’t care too much
My suppressed autoimmune system complains,
It’s not willing to go gently
Into that good night
FOMO takes over,
Being well enough to care is great
But the jealousy, not so much
I long to hear about someone else’s day
And then wish I lived in it
Surviving is lovely,
It just lacks motivational focus
For a girl who maps out goals
Boundaries and rest
Are my sacred test
1,2,3,4
In the in between
I can’t see the end
5,6,7,8
In the in between
Patience learns to wait
9,10,11,12
In the in-between
Communion is Comforting
The suffering us,
Throughout the globe
Solace is ours
As we groan
The promise was crafted
Still being fulfilled
Prepare us Lord here
Grown in wisdom
Budded from fears
