Hurry up and wait! That is one of the first lessons I learned when joining the military. I remember going to the Military Entrance Processing Center (MEPS) in Atlanta before Air Force Basic Training in Texas. There was lots of shouting and hurrying all of us to move from one space to another and then…..lots of waiting. Hurry to fill out some forms and move quickly to another room then wait. It is a well-known common cultural phrase across all US military where personnel are hurried to respond to an immediate order, followed by an extended period of waiting for the next order or actions to take place. A defining cultural characteristic of military life. But if I step back and look at life in general, the concept of ‘hurry up and wait’ also applies.

We recently observed Holy Week and Easter, which included Holy Saturday in the Christian calendar. The day after Good Friday when Jesus was crucified. The dark, tragic day on Friday was one of much hurrying and sadness. Once Jesus was crucified, his followers left behind hurried to bury him. On what we now know as Holy Saturday before his resurrection on Easter Sunday, his followers and loved ones weren’t aware of what was about to happen on Sunday. They were in a period of mourning and waiting for the unknown of what was to come next for them and their community. For modern day Christians like me, Holy Saturday is that period in between. Remembering the sadness of Good Friday and the bad things that happened while thinking ahead to the promised resurrection, new life, and good news of Easter morning. But to go from the sadness of Good Friday to the happiness of Easter morning, we have to go through the waiting during Holy Saturday. We hurry up and then wait for the good news and new life of Spring promised in the morning.

I often refer to those times in my life between where something bad has happened and the positive happier things I know will come in the morning as my Holy Saturday moments. I want to hurry through the pain and sadness and quickly get to the joy and happiness, but we all must go through the Holy Saturday periods of waiting. Like being laid off from work, which has happened many times to me in the past, and finding a much better new job that helped me to continue growing and thriving. I had to hurry up and wait in those middle moments, knowing good things were coming eventually, even though we don’t know how long the waiting will take. This theme appeared in different ways for me during this past Easter season.

I recently heard the phrase ‘liminal spaces’ in church, which aligns with these themes of hurry up and wait and Holy Saturday periods of waiting. Liminal space is defined as ‘a transitional place or state that can be physical or psychological’, derived from the Latin word limen, meaning threshold. Or put more succinctly, an in-between state. Another description includes a place where you are in between where you’ve been and where you are going. As many of my prior posts talk about the power of changing perspectives or reframing situations for resilience, the concept of liminal thinking is the art of embracing your curiosity and creativity to use thresholds to create the change you desire. Thinking of this concept of how we use the threshold, or liminal space, took me back to a random, yet quirky and fun childhood memory.

I’ve never been someone comfortable with waiting patiently. I always jokingly, but with a hint of truth, say patience isn’t my strong suit. But sometimes, the attributes of the waiting period and location make the waiting more enjoyable and not seem as long or daunting. I remember vividly going to my first dentist appointment as a young kid. I was so nervous because my older cousins told me scary stories about dentists and needles. And I had been in doctor’s offices before and hated the waiting area and time. However, when we got to the dentist office, the waiting area, or threshold/liminal space, was transformed into a train depot and passenger rail cars where the kids and parents boarded the static trains, sitting in the cars as if preparing for a long journey. There were train whistles and sounds as well in the space. I smile now thinking about how much I enjoyed that waiting area and time. The doctor and his staff used their waiting area or threshold space to calm their patients and prepare them for the care they were about to receive and the positive benefits of that care ahead for them.

Today, we all face challenges in our professional and personal lives and the world around us. Sometimes, bad, difficult, and challenging events happen to us and those we love and care about. In those moments, we find ourselves in liminal spaces and not sure where to turn. However, those liminal spaces are thresholds and waiting periods before the good things to come. That doesn’t mean we don’t have work to do in the liminal space to prepare and make a path forward.

I encourage each of you to reflect on your prior stories for when you’ve found yourself in those liminal spaces, on a threshold, and think about your relationship with the space and time. How did you stay inspired and motivated during those times? What could you do to make the space and time more enjoyable, like my childhood example of the dentist office train depot waiting room? How could you incorporate elements of play, fun, joy, and a sense of flow, getting lost in activities you enjoy, during these times of waiting?

In your past experiences, what gave you focus for the work effort needed during those times to keep your forward momentum towards goals and provide new insights? Life is full of hurry up and wait moments and liminal spaces in between where we’ve been and where we are going. Reflect on your stories for how you can make those thresholds more engaging, fun, inspiring, and productive, helping you to move forward positively and thrive. Engage your curiosity and creativity to use those thresholds to create the change you desire.

What will you do with your liminal spaces today? As always, I am interested in hearing and learning from all of you and your related stories because, Your Story Matters.

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