I’ve gone to several women’s events at our church in an effort to make some connections and, hopefully, friends. Just showing up is an act of courage for me. I’m pretty outgoing, but it’s unnerving to show up at an event where I don’t know anyone, to do something I’m not sure I even want to do, in order to spark a new friendship with someone in a group where everyone seems to know each other. I admit that on at least two occasions, I have texted my oldest daughter from the parking lot asking her to inspire the motivation I needed to walk into the building. To top it all off, most of the activities at the events have involved making something. That may sound nice and fun, but the truth is crafts scare me! My things never seem to turn out the way I think they will in my head so I usually require a lot of instruction and encouragement during the making process.
Each time I’ve gone, though, the women have been warm and welcoming which makes me continue to push forward. The problem is that each time I go, my in between-ness is magnified.
The in between; that uncertain time of letting go and waiting to grab the next thing.
We’ve been going to the church for nine months. We go to Sunday School and my son sings with the praise band more Sundays than not. So I’m not necessarily new to the church, but I’m certainly not assimilated yet.
I’m in between.
I know some faces and some names, but I haven’t made any real connections with anyone yet. So I’m known, but not KNOWN.
I’m in between.
I’ve found at most of the events, the room automatically divides into two areas. One, being the tables with moms deep in the trenches of child rearing and the other, tables of empty nesters with grandchildren. I feel most comfortable with the young moms. After all, I was just there. They are kind and allow me to participate in their discussions, but I can tell by the looks on their faces, they don’t consider me part of the group. Yet, I don’t quite fit with the other ladies either, as they talk about their adult children close to my age and the joys of being grandmothers.
I’m in between.
That’s what transitions are, the in between. Here, life can be a little unsettling. I’m not sure which path to follow. I’m not sure who to pursue for friendship. I’m not sure where or with whom I belong. I’m not sure.
This is where I have to remind myself to whom I ultimately belong. I belong to the creator of the universe, the One who set all things in motion. I belong to the One who created the seas and told their waves where to stop. I belong to the One who put the stars in the sky and tells them when to shine. I belong to the One who loves me with an undying love; the One who always welcomes me and says I am His. In Him, I am never in between, I always belong…
