Living in the in-between…

Too blah to blog.

That pretty much sums up where I’ve been the past days… weeks.

We anticipated this would happen. After all, we’ve now been in our home country seven months. Initially, there was all the hubbub surrounding leaving — leaving not only our home for almost eleven years, but also our lives as expats. We’d lived overseas almost 47 years, and so returning “home” was fraught with a myriad of emotions.

Then there was the excitement of Christmas with family, followed by both our kids joining us in our temporary home the beginning of the New Year. That, in and of itself, was something we don’t take for granted, because until our move the four of us had lived on three different continents. Now it’s only two.

Then we took off on a nine-week road trip. An incredible time of reconnecting with family and friends. Of getting reacquainted with our home country. Of “ooing “and “ahhing” our way from coast to coast. Of marveling at the beauty of God’s creation.

And now…

Now we’re living in the in-between. We’re neither settled here — in our temporary home — nor do we know what our next steps are.

This in-between place is

• awkward. Do we start building relationships here? building community? Or do we distance ourselves, knowing that by the end of the year (hopefully!) we’ll be moving elsewhere? This is so “not me” to not be intentional in reaching out to others! I’m in this weird limbo-land of wanting to do one thing and yet feeling paralyzed to do the opposite. Plus… how do I talk about our past lives — like when we lived in Austria and the closest beach was Italy — without sounding like I’m bragging? It’d be the equivalent of someone who lives in Memphis wanting to go to Myrtle Beach, which doesn’t sound so strange, right?! Or the fact that we visited over one hundred people on our road trip? That’s normal for folks like us who have lived and served overseas our entire adult lives, but I’m realizing is hard for a lot of people to relate to.
• confusing. Some days I’m doing fine. Other days I’m discouraged, disheartened. Some days I want to embrace this season of ambiguity. Other days I’m yearning for the familiar, for a sense of belonging. A sense of purpose.
• perplexing. I’m still shaking my head, unable to fathom that I fell for an advertising gimmick on Facebook and bought a bunch of laundry and dryer sheets that I really didn’t need… and paid more than I probably should have. I’ve always been so skeptical of that sort of thing. I remember my dear mother buying a super-duper vacuum cleaner/carpet cleaner that some salesman convinced her would be ideal. Once my siblings and I found out we were aghast, especially when we saw that it was too heavy and cumbersome for her to maneuver. What happened to our sensible mother?! And now… I fell for a similar ploy.
• baffling. My identity — who I am, not what I do — is something you’d think would be indelibly and confidently settled at this stage of life, and yet it’s been fraught with questions like where do I fit in? what’s my niche? does so-and-so have time for me in their lives… or is their “friend quotient” filled? how do we reintegrate with others when they’re not accustomed to having us around for holidays and birthdays and other celebrations?

“It’s not so much that we’re afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it’s that place in between that we fear … It’s like being between trapezes. It’s Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There’s nothing to hold on to.”  

—Marilyn Ferguson as quoted in https://www.traininternational.org/blog/blog-post-bridge-of-transition

Yep. This in-between place is like being stuck between trapezes. One side is safe. Comfortable. Familiar. The other is potentially exhilarating. Fresh.

… and yet terrifying. It demands letting go. Trusting. Looking ahead, not back. Refusing to listen to doubts, questions. Refusing to second-guess oneself.

I was reading a few days ago about a man and his family who made a major, cross-cultural move several centuries ago. They left a large city for a place where they were supposed to receive an inheritance. And yet as they left, they really didn’t know where they were going.

Sounds familiar to where my husband and I are these days!

As this man and his family were on their way to this yet-unknown destination, they encountered a “divinely orchestrated pause.” His father died, which I would imagine compounded the sense of loss they were already feeling having been uprooted from everything that was familiar. They temporarily settled in an important city on an ancient trade route, and yet its inhabitants embraced pagan lunar worship, which was diametrically opposed to the faith and practices of this man and his family.

On a positive note, this “detour” enabled them to accumulate possessions and servants (which was common back then). It forced them to choose between the gods of this idolatrous city and the God they had always worshipped.

But it wasn’t the only detour as they journeyed to their final destination. Later, they had to go to another country because of a famine…

Living in the in-between...

This story made me stop and think: what might be some of the advantages of this in-between time for me? for us as a couple? How might it help to refine my beliefs? Am I willing to let go of those things that may be holding me back from embracing our unknown future? Am I open to anywhere, anytime (regarding our move) — or am I dictating my own destination, setting my own timeline?

Back to the family in this story… The main character was a man named Abraham. He made it into the “Hall of Faith” of the Bible… not because he did everything perfectly, not because he had some great plan. But because “by faith he lived as a foreigner in the promised land, as in a strange land, living in tents [as nomads]… for he was [waiting expectantly and confidently] looking forward to the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God (Hebrews 11:9-10, the Amplified Bible).

That’s the bottom line: living by faith, which is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:11) It’s what will enable me — enable us — to let go of one trapeze bar so that I — we — can make it to the other side. It’s that intangible sense that even being stuck in the in-between can be a divinely orchestrated pause, one in which God refines, directs, renews. Refreshes. Yes, even refreshes.

And clinging to that, dear friends, is what will enable all of us to have joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!”

To read more about this story, see Genesis chapter 12 (Old Testament of the Bible)