My whole life is in between right now.
I’m in between countries. Last Saturday, I flew home from four and a half months in Malta. On Monday, I leave for a month in Kenya.
I’ve barely begun to process the past semester, and here I am, leaving again. My bedroom floor is covered in clothes. I’m simultaneously unpacking and repacking.
My body is still in between time zones. I’m not fully integrated into EST yet, which is probably for the best, as I’ll just have to switch right back again.
At 21, I feel in between in every way.
In between a teenager and an adult.
There’s something about 21 that makes me feel like I have to have my stuff together.
I’m not a -teen anymore. But also, we all know I’m not grown up. I’m still in college, but the real world is looming, ever-threatening, on my horizon.
I feel in between cities, too. This house where I grew up is home, isn’t it? But my college town feels increasingly like home. My friends, my teachers, my church are all there.
This season of in between makes me restless. I don’t know what’s up ahead but I’m done with what’s behind.
I’m not quite ready to move ahead, but I don’t like being in between, either. It feels lost, in a way. Constantly in transition.
And then I think of the Israelites, wandering for 40 years.
40 years of in between.
And in those 40 years of in between, God was still good. God was still there.
And all I can do is trust that He is here in my in between.
Linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday. Five minutes, one word (or…maybe two), just write, no judgement.