Change is in the air.
As I write this, the air temperature outside is close to 60 degrees. The huge glacier in my front yard is shrinking.
I can see a patch of earth on the south side of my house, and little green shoots are making their way through the soil.
The robins are back.
It’s not spring yet – but we can see it in the distance wearing an Easter hat and mud boots.
It’s not quite spring but it’s not winter.
It’s in between.
Which has been my longtime quarrel with March,
I don’t love that in-between.
That’s where we are with the pandemic too.
It’s not as awful as it was- and it’s not over yet either.
Hopefully it will be soon.
Meanwhile, we are in between.
In liminal space.
I admit though that I’d like a place that feels more secure and less shaky. A place I can define with more clarity.
Rev Scott Stoner says there are two essential things that all people need when they find themselves in a liminal space:
unconditional love and a supportive community.
These two factors make all the difference in the midst of this vulnerable time.
We can offer unconditional love to our own vulnerable, broken, and courageous self.
And to the members of this supportive community we are a part of.
I’m so very grateful for our religious community and also we are in a transitional phase.
We are not where we were and we are not where we hope to be.
This liminal space can be scary.
We don’t know what we will look like, and who will still be standing beside us, when the dust settles.
It is normal to project our fears, worries and stories of scarcity onto the community.
And the gift of liminal space is that transformation happens here.
Transformation happens when we are not in charge.
It can’t happen when we are holding on to control.
Sometimes we need to be shaken loose from our foundations in order to be open for something bigger.
This is the space where a new reality can be born.
And this is where we are now.
There is shaky ground.
And infinite possibilities.
May we rest in this ever-moving place.