Blossom Blog

This blog post is dedicated to my precious granddaughter Adisen. She owns a huge amount of space in my heart. Through her courage, self-confidence, and pure spice, she is one of my greatest teachers.

If you grew up in the South, you are familiar with spring storms—the kind that come out of nowhere, turning the skies as dark as night and blowing with a force that seems like rage. I remember, as a child in school during these storms, we would have to go out into the hallway between classrooms, crouch down, hug our knees, and wait it out. That scary, dark waiting—the in-between—was the worst.

Calvin and I are empty nesters, staring retirement square in the face. Over the past four year, we have live in a sweet little community and have loved every minute of it. We have missed our friends and family, but it has been the respite that both of us, as well as our marriage needed. I personally have felt like we have been on vacation everyday. I am so humbly grateful for the time that God has given us but….I know it is coming to an end and there’s a bittersweetness to it. The desire to be closer to family and friends is very sweet but at the same time, there is a fear. I can’t clearly say why there is fear but I do feel it lurking in the shadows of my mind. I feel myself standing at a doorway knowing it is time.

I find it hard to explain the comfort that I have found here; there’s no obvious reason. I moved to a place where no one knows me, and I know no one. I started a job where no one knows me, and I know no one. I can walk down the street, go into the grocery store, go out to dinner, and have the comfort in knowing that I will not see one person who knows me. I am sure this sounds strange, but in truth, it has given me time to get aquatinted with the real me without the fear of judgement or disappointment. I have had no need to conform, pretend, or wear any mask. I have been free to withdraw and retreat to this beautiful, safe space, and while God has been gracious and patient with me during this time, I know I wasn’t created for withdrawing or retreating into an illusion of safety that my mind has created. As the song says, I wasn’t made to be tending a grave….I was made for more. I am seeing now that this more is asking for more from me… more trust, more certainty, more self-acceptance and love as I step into the in-between.

When I tell people that we have put our house on the market and that we are planning to move home the first questions tends to be, “So what are ya’ll going to do?” I have to say there is a true discomfort in admitting that I (we), have absolutely no idea. However, I find that the more I say it, the easier it gets. The uncomfortable begins feeling like something that may be dark and scary, but also something I am willing to trust and surrender to.

The In-between is the space that divides one reality from another, one mindset from another, the known from the unknown. In the in-between, there are no familiar road signs, no light that guides the way. It is a space that is dark and quiet and the waiting…it’s the worst. Darkness ask for a faith in what you can not see. Quiet ask that we become still enough to hear God’s voice, which can only be heard in the silence. The waiting ask for complete surrender.

It isn’t that what we are leaving is wrong or bad; it is just that one’s full potential can never be experienced while living in a box, refusing to change, expand, and grow. The ability to hold more, experience more, and receive more requires that our vessels be expanded to a greater capacity. This additional energy and power need something bigger and stronger than what was, and the space between what was and what will be is the in-between. We know that new wine cannot be put into old wineskins. We also need to understand that every miracle must be birthed from a virgin—the unknown.

So, if you, like me, are either in the in-between or about to be, step out into it. Let what is be, and know that for every dark place there is light just on the other side, revealing all that God has and desires for you. Be still and know what His voice sounds like in the silence. Surrender to the vast unknowing that holds the miracle you’ve been waiting for.

“Stillness is the language that God speaks, everything else is just a bad translation”. Eckhart Tolle