Tag: living in the in-between

In God’s economy… no in-between???

Photo credit: itiswritten.com

I was in my late twenties when our good friend’s father was killed in a car accident. And yet the way in which that news was conveyed has been indelibly seared on my heart and mind…

My husband and I, along with our friend and several others, had been camping over the weekend. When we stopped at Christina’s to drop her off, her father told all of us to come inside. We gathered in a circle in the dining room, unsure of what was going on. 

Her father then looked intently at each of us and asked each of us in turn, “Are you ready to die?”

Gulp. I’d never been asked that before! I fumbled before saying that yes, I think so. After all, isn’t that the “correct” response for a Christ follower?! Shouldn’t we always be ready/not be afraid to die because of knowing that it means being eternally with God in heaven? In any case…

He then shared a verse from the Bible that instructs us to “number our days, that we may cultivate and bring to God a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12, Amplified Bible ).

After several minutes of subdued silence — letting those words sink in — he told us that our friend’s father had been killed several hours earlier in a car accident.

Fast forward forty-some years… and another person, someone I’ve never even met but who has been one of my brother and sister-in-law’s dearest friends, has died. Not from a car accident, but in a bizarre, tragic turn of events: he contracted an infection after accidentally cutting himself on a dumpster as he threw out the trash.

The past two weeks, ever since being asked to pray, my heart has been wrenched with each update, each a harbinger of news that I fervently wished would be positive… but became increasingly negative. Increasingly devoid of hope. 

And then… yesterday afternoon…

Bill passed into the loving arms of his Savior at 3:10 pm today. He was surrounded by family.

This morning, as I was journaling, I found myself wondering why I was so affected by all of this. Maybe it’s because of this stage of life… In my twenties (and the next few decades) it was our parents’ friends who were dying… but now… we’re that generation. Now it’s people our age or younger, as was Bill. 

My husband and I talked about this in-between time we’re currently in and what it means to “cultivate and bring to God a heart of wisdom.” And I’m beginning to see how in God’s economy, there actually is NO in-between time. 

It seems that learning to “number my days” encompasses learning to live wisely. Making the most of each day, living it to its fullest. Being intentional in using and investing the gifts God has entrusted to me. Seeing each day as a gift and not one to be squandered away by wallowing in the past or being obsessed by the future, which is filled with unknowns that can only sidetrack me from undivided attention to the NOW.

Yes, my heart aches for this dear family who are in the throes of grieving and navigating life without their dear husband and father. And yet I’m personally thankful for the wake-up call that has reminded me to “number [my] days, that [I] may cultivate and bring to God a heart of wisdom.” If there is to be any joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!” then that, dear friends, is how it will be achieved. 

Laundry therapy?!?

photo credit: author

I’m not exactly sure how it came about, but for some reason, I LOVE hanging laundry on a clothesline outdoors. Maybe it’s a nostalgia thing… conjuring up memories of growing up in a rural setting, helping my mom hang the laundry outside on bright summer days and then racing to get it inside when an unexpected shower threatened to drench the almost-dry clothes.

And so recently, when the maintenance guy at the temporary place where we’re living restrung clotheslines that had been pulled down in last winter’s snow/ice storm, I was VERY happy.

Laundry flapping in a summer breeze… my “laundry therapy.” Bliss.

It’s funny how “little” things make a difference. Can be a morale booster. Can go by unnoticed by most people, but be of significance to others.

My laundry therapy has been instrumental in becoming more comfortable in this in-between time we’re currently in. Plus getting back into some good routines (like joining a gym, which enables me to swim regularly). Plus recognizing more fully how music is often a balm to my soul. A seemingly “little” thing, and yet something God often uses to connect my head and heart to the truth of His Word.

“Oceans” by Hillsong United (https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=uZ75yIP1t0w&si=k4aDZs5HD8opgXWN) is one of those songs God has been using recently. It’s meaningful to me on several counts:

* Having grown up near the Atlantic Ocean, I’m a bona fide lover of all things related to the sea! Hence, the song name alone draws me in to wanting to hear and know more!

* “Oceans” is one of my good friend’s favorites– and so every time I hear it I’m transported back to when our paths first crossed in Thailand — and how our friendship continues to grow and deepen now that we’re both on the same continent.

* The words resonate with my soul.

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep my faith will stand

Chorus: And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours, You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You’ve never failed and You won’t start now

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Saviour

Yes, God has called my husband and me to a “great unknown,” a place where our “feet sometimes may fail.” And yet IN that mystery, IN the depths of the unknown our “faith will stand.” Why??? How???

Not because we have some extraordinary faith… but because of WHO our faith is in. Because we’re endeavoring to keep our eyes fixed above the waves, above the challenges and uncertainties, above what’s comfortable and familiar.

We’re choosing — at least on our good days! — to call upon God. To trust in HIM wholeheartedly, to try not to figure everything out with our own understanding, to acknowledge HIM in all our ways. In all we seek to do. In all the decisions we need to make.

We’re learning to “rest in His embrace.” Because we’re His. We’re His children, and He’s our loving Father.

Yes, we’re learning. Yes, we have good days and hard ones. Discouraging days when one or the other of us loses perspective. Frustrating days when we get tired of the holding pattern we’re in.

And yet we’re asking God to “lead us where our trust knows no borders.” Where our trust is refined and doesn’t have any “what if’s” or “but’s” or “why’s” attached. We want our faith to grow stronger… and we know that that happens “in the presence of our Saviour.”

… and that our faith grows one step at a time. One choice at a time.

So we do not lose heart…. for this light and momentary [challenge] is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look NOT TO THINGS THAT ARE SEEN BUT TO THE THINGS THAT ARE UNSEEN. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

– 2 Corinthians 4: 16-18

Back to my “laundry therapy…”

I’ve never “seen” the breeze that causes my laundry to dance on the clothesline. And yet the gentle flapping of laundry in the wind transforms wet clothing to dry.

Trusting in something unseen. Something that yields results. Something that is completely independent from my efforts. Something totally out of my control.

Something accomplished by my Heavenly Father.

And so that — remembering to trust in God, remembering that “His sovereign hand will be my guide,” remembering that “You [God] have never failed and You won’t start now” — is how I’m wanting to live during this in-between time. And that is how I’ll have joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!”

Living in the in-between…

Photo credit: ar.inspiredpencil.com

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)