We are officially in this extremely unique space of time where this baby-that-is-surely-going-to-change-our-lives-forever could come any day …. or it really could be another five weeks before we meet him or her.
It feels very weird – to not know when this enormous event will happen. Should I make plans for next weekend? Will tonight be the night?
It is fertile ground for trusting God, as a wise friend recently encouraged me – this vast horizon of unknown and questions. And it is helpful in encouraging me to be in the present – to be thankful for the right now; to enjoy today; to slow down; to savor.
Admittedly, I’m not exactly floating around in a perfect zen state – in fact, I find that if I let myself, I quickly start sprinting down the path of hyperawareness of any and all physical symptoms I may be experiencing at any given moment while simultaneously trying to check off all the things on all the lists …. Back pain, does that mean anything? I’ve never felt a foot cramp like that before …. Is this burst of energy the calm before the storm? We should do the Costco run now, because what if we can never leave the house again and are stranded without toilet paper and butter?
But I’ve been praying a lot for peace – and thinking a lot about the word savor as a guide and theme these next few weeks. It is apt that it’s autumn, because this season seems so fleeting, so it too is something I wish to savor.
It feels like a thin place indeed, as my Celtic ancestors might say. Both the beauty of this literal autumnal season and the beauty of this figurative place where we’re on the brink of something big and beautiful and scary and amazing and overwhelming. The presence of God seems more tangible and the gap between this reality and God’s feels much less uncrossable in this weird, beautiful, thin place.