We now find ourselves living in a different reality. What has been a period of practically universal seclusion is gradually changing.
The refuge of our homes during this pandemic has been both comforting and exasperating for most. Of course, there have been many who did not find safety in a refuge. And there were some who had no refuge at all. Heavy burdens of sickness and death have affected hundreds of thousands. Millions have been diagnosed around the world. Caregivers and first responders, heroic in everyday sacrifice, are exhausted. Suddenly unemployed workers wonder where they will be if jobs don't return soon. People are standing in lines for food as the supply chain begins to teeter. What has been is ending and what shall be is unknowable. I call it the land in between.
“We are empty and receptive—erased tablets waiting for new words.” ~ Richard Rohr
What we want to do more than anything during these in-between times is to grasp for the reality we once had. Another is to project and worry about what life will be like in the future. Though it if feels as if we are in the midst of turmoil as change comes, the truth is that the land in between is a perfect place for finding the willingness to discover new paths. It provides the opportunity to put into practice what we have learned during these difficult times. We can define what sort of appreciation we will give to the most important things going forward. It is an invitation to come closer together than ever before and to celebrate the gift of being alive without harming others in the process. It is the place in which we finally recognize that life rarely turns out the way we think it will...and almost never how we plan it.
My uncle and my father were best friends. They delighted in each other as boys growing up in Monticello, Illinois, served in the Navy together during WWII, and though separated by several states, later on, stayed very close as they raised families and built successful businesses. The annual or semi-annual visits with each other were so festive that their boys imagined being an adult must be a lot more fun than being a kid. Bob and Ken dreamed of retiring, playing golf, dancing, having parties, living close by, and growing old together. But a lifetime of dreams dissolved when Dad died before any of that could come to pass. My uncle told me that he would never get over it. But he did. By suffering through a long residence at the land in between, he discovered a way through his brokenness and remapped his life. He extinguished denial and opened up to the love of his wife, children, and grandchildren. When he died, there was an enormous celebration of his life well-lived. I'm also sure that he and Dad are having a big-time playing another round of golf in eternal bliss.
I am one of those people who makes a continual effort to live without regret. This day, this hour, and this moment is a springboard to possibilities. I believe that what has happened in the past months will shape a new, compassionate reality for the majority of people. We may feel as if the comfortable trappings of life have been stripped away. But they have not. We have shed one skin in favor of a new one. Take time to breathe and savor this land in between. There is no doubt in my mind that we can become a whole new world.