The Rear-View Mirror

Transition is not a new concept, nor should it be unexpected. Whether we are aware of our life-transitions, whether we understand or welcome them, transitions will occur throughout our lives. Life is full of transitions: the challenge is to embrace them, and if not exactly embraced, transitions should at least be understood and accepted, learned from, and incorporated into our very hearts and minds. Otherwise, life will never make sense; we won’t reach the full potential of who we are or what we have to offer.

Limen is the Latin word for a threshold, a doorway in between two rooms, or even between the inside/outside of a space.  In the same way, the concept of liminal space incorporates this sense of a “heart and soul space” that exists in the “in-between” times in our lives when we are in transition, whether it is an intentional transition, an unintentional one, a welcome opportunity — or even a time of change that is confusing and unsettling.  

We’ve all had those liminal times. College, graduation, marriage, parenthood; moving from one home or community to another. Job loss, death of family and friends, divorce; children growing up and away. Serious illness. Transitions in our world and in our lives are a given, but all too often, we resist the change, we turn away, we hold on to what we have with tight fists. We refuse to acknowledge the change in circumstances, refuse to let go of what once was - and thus never move forward.

It’s a reflexive action, this “hanging on for dear life”, and a pattern of thinking and behaving that is hard to change. So what?.. you say… “I like my life just the way it is and I don’t want to change!” Ironically, the problem, of course, is that change is constant. Times of transition are often not of our own doing; we don’t choose to have illness and death; we don’t choose to be laid off, or experience the pain of divorce or the ravages of a pandemic, or the disintegration of family and friendships. But sadly, many of us refuse to acknowledge the change before us, or perhaps even the need to change, and attempt - at all costs - to hang on to our present life, holding onto broken circumstances with tight fists. We get stuck, and in that “stuck-ness” lies inertia; there is no good thing in this space. We either move on, or wilt and die within.

So what to do, then? How do we change our mind and heart attitudes regarding transitions? How do we embrace the change - and if we do - what will that mean? How do we learn and grow from enforced or unwanted change? I believe (through years of experiencing transitions in my own life) that the key to using times of transitions as an opportunity for growth, maturity and wisdom is to recognize them as a “time and space” of liminality. With recognition comes the conscious movement into the unknown, “in-between” time so that we can enter into it fully, acknowledging the discomfort, and even the pain, of the change. If we see this time as a threshold between one phase of life and another, as a positive experience of growth and change, we’ll understand better who we were then, and how we are being called to evolve and change now.

I’ve known this for years; that uncertain and often scary time of liminality - that “in-between” time and how it has cycled back to me again and again throughout my life.  As I’ve walked this journey of life, I’ve noted these doorways, the “lintel” between one phase of my life and another.  Many times, these were difficult liminal spaces of change: our move to another city when I was first married, which signaled a forced time of growing up and out of the nurturing nest of my childhood into full adulthood; times of difficult work situations that pushed me into different and exciting (though scary) challenges; the death of dear family and friends, each loss searingly painful and heartbreaking, but so pivotal in my understanding of suffering, love and healing. 

And as difficult as those times were, I didn’t fully realize what was going on, and how God was transforming me in the midst of all that, until I looked in the rear-view mirror of my life. It was only in that rear-view mirror that I could see how God had reached out, held my hand, caressed my soul, breathed hope into my weeping heart. It was only months and years later that I noticed the beauty of the transformation, the steadfastness of a God who never left my side, even in those times that I could see nothing but my tears. It was only from the vantage point of a more mature, wiser person that I could make sense of what had happened, of what God had wrought in me.

Nothing makes sense in the midst of transition. Letting go of the things held close and dear is painful and hard - it’s ridiculous to pretend otherwise. However, when you see things from the vantage point of elapsed months (or even years), you see the grace that God has provided in all moments of your life. It’s not until you’ve walked “through” that time, until you’ve walked through that liminal space from one heart-room to another that you truly come to understand and appreciate the road walked, the journeys completed.

I’m in a liminal space now; transitioning through another time of change that is impacting me in several ways: new directions and challenges in my faith; changes in church, in work expectations and approaching retirement; an acknowledgment that this body of mine is starting to wind down, to creak and moan and ache.  This time, though, I recognize the liminality of this space; and in this space, I am at peace because I know, for sure and certain, that yet again, God is the One leading me through this time of growth and change.  In this liminal space, God has granted me the grace and wisdom to understand what I must, and to let go of the rest.

In acknowledging this liminal space, I give it permission to breathe and radiate and mold and transform me. I relax into its unknown reaches, and lean into the Spirit who will guide me, heal me, and bring me that unlimited and sweet peace that only comes from God.  I don’t know where I’ll land; nor do I know when- but someday in this space, my two feet will have fully entered into the possession of a new reality, and I will sit for a time at God’s feet, enjoying the fruits of this new time and space, until He brings me to another.