The Sacred In-Between I wrote the above poem in the liminal space I’ve recently entered. There are seasons in life when we find ourselves suspended between what once was and what has yet to come. These moments can feel disorienting, like standing in a doorway, unsure of whether to step forward or turn back. Liminal space is exactly that—a threshold, a sacred pause. It’s the place where transformation takes root even when we cannot yet see its shape. This space of waiting and becoming shows up in many forms: Grief—when someone you love is gone, but a new way of being without them hasn’t fully formed. Faith shifts—when old beliefs no longer fit, but new understanding isn’t yet clear. Major life transitions—when retirement, career changes, health challenges, or shifting relationships loom. For me, this liminal space recently opened up as I revisited the death of my father. His loss shaped me in ways I hadn’t fully understood. When he died, I, at 16, didn’t have the tools to process my grief. Instead, I pushed it down, burying it beneath achievements and the need to “man up.” That lost, grieving boy got left behind. Scared. Hidden. But time has a way of bringing us back to what we need to face. Decades later, through spiritual direction, prayer, and reflection, I’ve stepped into that space again—not to relive the pain but to integrate the boy I once was with the man I am today. That 16-year-old boy no longer has to be hidden. He belongs. His innocence, vulnerability, and openness bring balance to the man I have become. He reminds me how to trust, how to feel, how to receive love without earning it. And in return, the adult man in me offers strength, protection, and the wisdom that comes with time. Together, I experience balance—I am softened where I had grown rigid, grounded where I once felt lost. The boy no longer needs to be left behind. He is part of me now. We move forward as one. Whole. This is the gift of liminal space. It is where we move through Order → Disorder → Reorder. It is where faith is tested, but also where something new emerges. And the key is not to rush through it, not to force clarity before its time, but to trust the process—trust that God is already at work. | 
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