Early the other morning it snowed, depositing a white layer over the newly sprouted daffodils and hyacinths. It’s the time of year when spring is trying to break through, but winter isn’t ready to let go. One of those in-between times.
It seems much of life is lived in-between. The teenage years are the epitome of this—no longer a child, but not yet an adult. Trying to prove themselves mature, but not really ready for full maturity. Yet many other times are similarly confusing. Like waiting for a child to be born and not quite a parent. Or planning a long move—getting ready to go and perhaps already mentally on the road, but still with tons of details to finish before the move can take place. Switching careers or planning for retirement. Living safely between the height of Covid and its eradication. In-between times are a frequent part of life.
Come to think of it, this entire life is lived in-between. We live between birth and death, between the temporal and the eternal. Martin Luther said, “This life is not righteousness, but growth in righteousness; not health, but healing, not being, but becoming; … we are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it…”
So how do we live in this sometimes beautiful, sometimes tragic, often confusing in-between? That’s something I am still trying to figure it out myself. I know it has a lot to do with trusting God and learning patience—something that is never fun to learn. It may mean focusing on the big picture, instead of the details. Or admitting that we don’t have all the answers. However, one thing I do know. To quote the wise old man in Abbie’s Woods: Defending the Nest, “…the answer always has something to do with love.”
