Transitions are often scary. We are leaving one space, often comfortable if only because we know our way to the places we need to go. While we are going to a place where we might have trouble discovering the things very critical to our survival, like the el bano.
The frightening place though I think is the liminal space, the place of transition, that often holds me back. Those are the places that scare me. Several of my good friends are in those transitional places, the place in between the old and the new. Each has willingly taken the risk to go beyond what was to move into the what could be. These are inspirational people.
My grandfather was a truck driver most of his adult life. While working he traveled the main highways, trying to make good time. Time meant money and he needed it to care for his family.
But when my grandfather was not driving his truck he always took the back roads, the roads that took him through small towns with tiny cafes. He knew the dinner with the best lunch, the one with the blackest coffee and the little six seat pie shop with the sweetest apple pie in the county. It seemed we traveled for the sake of eating. Of course, as I grew older I realized he stopped at those places because of the people who he knew who lived in the area or worked in the cafe. We traveled for the sake of fellowship and community.
We traveled a lot of miles together, always in transition, going from one place to another - the best part though was being in the in between places, that was where my grandfather told me the stories of his life. Without the linimal spaces, I wouldn't know my grandfather or our family history.
To my many friends in transition, my prayers are with you - prayers that you may find your stories somewhere in the in between space.
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