It is Sunday afternoon, and I am still trying to decide what to write for this week’s Listening on the Journey … post. People often ask me where I come up with ideas for my blog, and I’ve often replied, “I never run out of ideas. I only run out of time.” Right now, though, I’m not sure that is accurate. I hope you’ll want to read on for a couple of brief thoughts, which I am thinking may lead to some fresh ideas ...

First, I want to express huge THANKS to my web manager who has become a dear friend over the past few years. I have no doubt I could not have become a “blogger” had it not been for Stephen Robinson’s expertise and extreme patience with this Baby Boomer woman, most definitely a “digital immigrant” who has never become fluent in “computer-eze.”

Friendships, I’ve learned, have seasons. I am grateful for my season of friendship with Stephen—not only for his technical skills but also to have a glimpse into the way in which God is writing his story and the way Stephen has learned to “listen” on his unique journey.

If you did not read Stephen’s guest posts last week, please go back and do so. (last Monday’s post - click here, last Thursday’s post - click here.) I know his words will bless and encourage you.

So, the word “liminal” has been fluttering around like a butterfly in my head recently.

“Liminal” is derived from the Latin word “limen,” which means threshold and involves movement from one place to another. When I consider this word, I imagine a time of transition involving one or more facets of my “whole soul.” The movement may be physical, emotional, relational, intellectual, or spiritual. During a time of liminality, I may feel a bit confused by both hopeful anticipation and disquieting disorientation.

Nature’s changing seasons perfectly illustrate what liminal is all about. I have always been fortunate to live in regions with four distinct seasons. Right now, in Coeur d’Alene, we are in the liminal space of transitioning from summer to autumn.

The past couple mornings have been crisp and cool, a feeling of autumn permeating the air. We’ve opened doors and windows early in the day to refresh our house. By 9:00 a.m., however, Ron is closing everything up. The temperature is rising quickly—both days into summertime mid to high 90’s—and my husband is diligent about squandering neither heat nor air conditioning.

How does this apply to today’s post? You may wonder. Well, as I was trying to collect my thoughts, I realized my soul is currently in a liminal space.

Furthermore, I wondered if that isn’t why I have been meditating (thinking about repeatedly) on a familiar passage of scripture the past few weeks. Philippians 4:4-9 in the New International Version reads,

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

I began to wonder today if in the next few posts, I may try to unpack this practical passage. It may be familiar to you, even as it has been to me for several years, but perhaps together, we can discover some fresh new insights which can help us move confidently into our next life season.

On one of Ron’s recent photo excursions to the Palouse, he stopped to watch an osprey fledgling trying to figure out how to fly from the nest. Like me, and perhaps you, the young bird finds her/himself in a “liminal space.”

Monday Moment | with Thanks and a Thought

Thursday Thought When a Dream is Delayed (Part 2)