{"id":681,"date":"2017-04-11T18:12:45","date_gmt":"2017-04-11T23:12:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/?p=681"},"modified":"2017-04-11T18:13:27","modified_gmt":"2017-04-11T23:13:27","slug":"the-in-between-and-other-uncomfortable-spots","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/?p=681","title":{"rendered":"The In Between and Other Uncomfortable Spots"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’ve gone to several women’s events at our church in an effort to make some connections and, hopefully, friends.\u00a0\u00a0Just showing up is an act of courage for me.\u00a0 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\u00a0even want to do, in order to\u00a0spark a new friendship\u00a0with someone in a group where everyone\u00a0seems to know each other.\u00a0\u00a0I admit that on at least two occasions, I have texted my oldest daughter from the parking lot asking her to inspire\u00a0the motivation\u00a0I needed\u00a0to walk into the building.\u00a0\u00a0To top it all off, most\u00a0of the activities at the events have involved making something.\u00a0 That may sound nice and fun, but the truth is crafts scare me!\u00a0\u00a0My things never seem to turn out the way\u00a0I think they will in my head so\u00a0I usually require a lot of instruction and encouragement during the making process.<\/p>\n

Each time I’ve gone, though,\u00a0the women have been warm and welcoming which makes me continue to push forward.\u00a0 The problem is that each time I go, my in between-ness<\/em> is magnified.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

The in between; that uncertain time of letting go and waiting to grab the next thing.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

We’ve been going to the church for nine months.\u00a0 We go to Sunday School and my son sings with the praise band\u00a0more Sundays than not. \u00a0So I’m not necessarily new to the church, but I’m certainly not assimilated yet.<\/p>\n

I’m in between.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I know some faces and some names, but I haven’t made any real connections with anyone yet.\u00a0 So I’m known, but not KNOWN.<\/p>\n

I’m in between.\u00a0<\/strong> <\/em><\/h3>\n

I’ve found at\u00a0most of the events, the room automatically divides into two areas.\u00a0 One, being the\u00a0tables with moms deep in the trenches of child rearing and the other, tables of empty nesters with grandchildren.\u00a0 I\u00a0feel most comfortable with the young moms. \u00a0After all, I was just there.\u00a0 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\u00a0part\u00a0of the group.\u00a0Yet, I don’t quite fit with\u00a0the other ladies either, as they talk about their adult children close to my age and the joys of being grandmothers.<\/p>\n

I’m in between.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

That’s what transitions are, the in between<\/em>.\u00a0 Here, life can be a little unsettling.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I’m not sure which path to follow.\u00a0 I’m not sure who to pursue for friendship.\u00a0 I’m not sure where or with whom I belong.\u00a0 I’m not sure.<\/p>\n

This is where I have to remind myself to whom I ultimately belong.\u00a0\u00a0 I belong to the creator of the universe, the One who set all things in motion.\u00a0 I belong to the One who created the seas and told their waves where to stop.\u00a0 I belong to the One who put the stars in the sky and tells them when to shine.\u00a0 I belong to the One who loves me with an undying love; the One who always welcomes me and says I am His.\u00a0 In Him, I am never in between, I always belong…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’ve gone to several women’s events at our church in an effort to make some connections and, hopefully, friends.\u00a0\u00a0Just showing up is an act of courage for me.\u00a0 I’m pretty outgoing, but it’s unnerving to show up at an event … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":686,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-681","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/04\/trapeze-catch.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/681","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=681"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/681\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":698,"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/681\/revisions\/698"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/686"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=681"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=681"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.karen-gustafson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=681"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}