Limbo Living - Elisabeth Klein

As I type, my sweet husband is driving home from work.  Something I haven’t shared with the masses is that his transfer has not come through yet, his job is ninety minutes away, and he doesn’t always come home every night of the week (on those nights, he stays with his parents; sometimes I head out to see him, sometimes not).

This is just a part of life. And if this is one of our biggest problems, we can handle it for sure. In fact, it feels pretty much like when we were dating which I should be totally used to.

Which is a bit of the issue: in tiny places of my heart, it still feels like we’re just dating.

I know we are completely and utterly married, and on weekends, it totally feels like it.  But during the week, we can feel…sporadic.  And my heart is waiting for the time when he is working closer and coming home every day after work, spending every evening with me.

Okay, a caveat. You might be thinking, what’s two or three days?  Big deal. Or as one of my friends pointed out, this is what I used to joke about wanting: a husband who didn’t live with me.  Well, it’s a big deal in my mind for two reasons: one, we’re newlyweds; and two, when I used to joke about that, I never in a million years pictured finding a man who I loved being with so much, who loved me so well I never wanted him to leave my side.

So anyway, in the meantime, in this waiting time – where I wrongly find myself waiting to start our lives together – I am doing a few things.

I am trying to catch myself when I think to myself that it’s just like we’re only dating, because we are not.  We are committed, we are married, we are husband and wife, and some distance a night or two each week does not lessen that one bit.

And I am trying to show grace, to him and to myself.

And I am praying for patience, to not be an immature crybaby when I miss him, to not make him feel bad.

And I am praying for protection over our hearts and marriage while we’re apart, for connection to remain strong, praying for me to feel married.

And I am trying to practice gratitude. For heaven’s sake, the man is a hard worker who enjoys his job and is providing for me. Don’t be a brat, Beth.

And I am trying to fill my evenings without him, either with something fun or even just something that brings me joy or relaxes me.

And just now, as I anticipate him coming home to me, I prayed that he would be refreshed on his way home, that he would be looking forward to seeing me after two days, that I will greet him with pure joy, that God will whisper to me ways that I can make this place feel more and more like home to him every time he walks through the door.

And I am asking for an open heart to learn what I can in this in-between time, this new, lovely, strange in-between time.

Are you feeling unsettled these days? Are you waiting for something to happen, for the next season to just start?

Are you, perhaps, waiting for your marriage to just end already…for the judge or your church or your husband to call time of death once and for all?

Are you, maybe, waiting to feel normal again, post-divorce…hoping that one day you’ll wake up and not feel such an ache, such a gaping wound, such a deep, deep loneliness?

Are you a single mom and you are longing for financial stability, waiting for the month when it seems like your check might actually be enough?

Are you dating and waiting and wondering where that man is that everyone says you deserve?

Are you simply in a season of pain or uncertainty and you’re longing for it to just be over?

Every season of life has an element of waiting for what’s next. It’s just part of life.

So can you – if you look really hard and really close – see the beauty in the place you are right this moment?  Can you – like I’m trying to do – be able to be grateful for the unsettledness, for the slight discomfort, for the things that aren’t just the way we want them because maybe God actually has something in this season for us that we could only learn this way?

Because there’s always something to be learned in a season that feels unsettling. Always, always, always.  And because there’s always something to be grateful for in a season that feels unsettling. Always, always, always.

What is God teaching you in your limbo?