I held the book in my hands. My eyes were heavy and longing for sleep, but I decided to read one more page. The words held on that page were beautifully crafted. They held the ability to laser in on soul burdens. They resonated with me deeply.
In a blessing entitled “For the Interim Time” John O’Donohue penned,
For me, they skillfully drew an image of the space I feel I have occupied for many months; I’m not here or there, just stuck in the nothingness. It’s a place I don’t like and I want to get through quickly.
Donohue’s words allowed my heart to crumble upon them while somehow breathing life into the “in-betweenness” in which I seem to now live. They helped me define this grayness and bring shape to the obscure. They gifted me with the ability to overlay structure and offer an anchor in a season of feeling adrift. Mostly, I understood that I am not alone in this season of transition. This is different than depression which can come clothed in hopelessness. Uncertainty and even frustration mark this time. It is as though I am led blindfolded to an obscure destination with no time parameters.
As life changes, anchors become critical. The hope we have in God serves as an anchor of the soul. It is times like these when this anchoring is proven. No longer can we rest in what was, nor can we dwell in what is to be. Rather it is in his unchanging grace and unwavering love for us that provides a place of rest. These in-between times can seem pointless. Yet, after we have exhausted all means of trying to avoid or shorten this uncomfortable interim, our soul comes back to home, to God. The words of the hymn, “My Hope is Built on Nothing Less” becomes our anthem.
I closed that book. I placed it on the stand next to my bed and turned out the light. The room was dark, but I was secure. My soul is secure too. Interims don’t last forever, but this one affirms that my anchor holds. What a gift, our anchor holds!