Walking in the In-Between

Lately, I’ve been living in a strange space.

Not quite here. Not quite there. I find myself feeling almost out of body, floating through moments instead of being rooted in them. Conversations feel distant. Connections feel… paused. Not broken—just quiet. I’ve stopped expecting people to show up a certain way. I’ve stopped waiting for them to be who I thought they’d be.

Instead, I’ve started asking God, “What is this person meant to show me? Reveal to me? Teach me?” And the answers? They’ve been eye-opening.

Some people are mirrors.
Some are lessons.
Some are reminders.
Some are assignments.
And some are just passing through.

When I stopped forcing closeness and started asking for clarity, I realized I was being invited to see God’s role—not just in my life, but in theirs. Maybe I’m here to bring peace. Or patience. Or perspective. Maybe they’re here to bring me humility. Or healing. Or a hard truth I needed to grow.

At the same time, I’ve noticed this tug-of-war happening inside myself. I’ve been so hard on me. Demanding discipline, growth, purpose, clarity. But I’ve also been oddly soft. Letting myself rest. Giving myself room to feel. It’s a strange tension—holding both accountability and grace.

And still… there’s this bigger feeling I can’t shake.

Something is shifting. I can’t name it. I can’t explain it. I just know that something is becoming.

I feel like I’m walking toward a life that hasn’t revealed itself yet. Like I’m in a hallway between the old and the new. And even though the doors haven’t opened yet, I know they’re ahead.

So I keep walking.
I keep healing.
I keep listening.

And I trust that my surroundings will eventually rise to match the depth of what I’ve been feeling.

Because this season?
This strange, quiet, in-between space?
It’s not empty.

It’s honest.

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