In “the between” times

I have a tendency towards nostalgia. The past often seems sepia-toned, drenched in soaring instrumentals capturing the angst of all the feels. The present, in contrast, can feel a bit dull at times–gotta get stuff done, preoccupied with getting to the next place, geographically or metaphorically. Can’t rest until then, right? 

When I’m in a new season, I feel a mix of excited anticipation and worries about how long this season will be. Will I accomplish everything I want from this chapter, or will I feel stuck? When I focus on undesirable aspects of the season lasting longer than planned, I can feel powerless. When I recognize that even this time period will end, I feel a lightness in my step. This moment is not forever. I’m in the “in-between times”. There will be a coming chapter when I might look wistfully back at my current time and wish for those good ole days. How can I receive the good that is for me right now? 

My friend refers to pre-COVID times as the “before times”. The thing is, none of us knew that we were living in those times. I certainly didn’t, mired in all the lack I felt. I took for granted the relative ease and freedom of moving around in society, mask-less, without a care that the briefest social interaction could turn deadly.     

Living with my medical diagnosis, I am periodically reminded of the “un-guaranteed” nature of my health and time. My health reflects the existential reality of so much of life not being guaranteed. And yet, we’re still here. What is the invitation for us in these “in-between times”, however long they might last?