A Limnal Space

Yesterday, a mentor introduced me to limnal space. The threshold. A space between this place and that place that must be crossed. Sometimes it is a simple step. Sometimes, it is an eternity of waiting in uncertainty. 

This would be my limnal year. 

I have spent months of 2023 in a breathless - sometimes literally air-starved - state of anxiety. I have pleaded for God's intervention, God's return, and finally for God's presence as I gasp and weep my way into some kind of daily death and resurrection. 

A limnal space. 

I don't know what tomorrow holds. I don't know what today holds. That has become quite clear to me. I have the impossible grave in The Swamp to prove it. 

I am slowly learning to box-breathe through the fear. To keep swimming. I watched Finding Nemo over and over like a three year old seeking mastery in April. I repeated Jesus telling His disciples "You can't just shut down when you are afraid." - The Chosen season 2, episode 7. 

My mantras. I don't know what today holds. God is good. God's plan is good. God is with me. 

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who mercifully restores my soul within me. Great is Your faithfulness. 

I will wait. I will practice gratitude. I will accept the limnal space. 

Keep the faith.