Waiting
in the unknown
in the middle zone
not seeing, just holding onto what was spoken
a token
of hope, pressing into your palm
imprinting it’s pattern
to your skin
reminding you again and again
that this is the wait,
and not the end
Waiting,
because it’s all you can do
waiting bringing questions
can I believe in this truth?
Unknown surrounds
and darkness grows
and you look
for that one thing
that promises hope...
Today, as I sat drinking my coffee, no less than four people came up to the opticians next door to the café, expecting it to be open. All of them commented to themselves or companions that it was not what the website had said. All of them checked their phones a number of times, even though, as I saw on passing later, there was a clear sign explaining why the door was locked.
A stirring began in my soul and I noted down the observation, adding to it the thought that people had come, expecting sight or at least adjustment. Yet even where sight was not found, hope was not lost. The shop would reopen, they’d just have to wait until Tuesday.
As I reflect on lent this year I think of Holy Saturday. The wait. The inability to grieve in alignment with the Sabbath and Passover laws. The confusion, the questioning, the darkness and the doubt. It resonates with me. This Saturday back in 2008 was the day I watched my mothers last moments. Waiting in the unknown, the middle zone, holding on to hope, that this is the wait and not the end.
Middle zones, liminal spaces, transitional time, waiting rooms, I feel that I know them well. Due to that, I feel I can walk with you through those places too. As your coach, I will listen, wait, hold space, and empower you. I have buckets full of hope, and I'm here to share some with you.
So if you need a bestie (coach or mentor) for the middle zone, pop over to my Coaching page to find out more
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