The Sacred Space Between
- 4 days ago
- 5 min read
Learning to live in the space between wanting and becoming.
There is a particular kind of peace that comes when we stop asking life to hurry.
When we stop standing at the edge of the present, leaning toward whatever we believe is supposed to happen next.
The relationship. The opportunity. The healing. The answer. The money. The clarity. The becoming.
We spend so much of our lives waiting for something to arrive.
And without realizing it, we can begin treating the present like a hallway...a place we are simply passing through on our way to somewhere more important.
But lately, I have really took a deep dive into this thought...
What if nothing is missing from this moment?
Last week, I wrote about The Quiet Luxury of Enough—about the richness that becomes visible when we stop constantly reaching for more.
But perhaps there is another layer to enough.
Perhaps enough is not only appreciating what we have...
but trusting where we are.
The Life Between the Chapters
We love beginnings.
We love arrivals.
We love the moment when everything finally makes sense.
But much of life doesn't happen there.
Much of life happens somewhere in between.
Between the prayer and the answer.
Between planting and harvest.
Between knowing what we no longer want and understanding what we do.
Between who we have been and who we are slowly becoming.
These seasons can feel uncomfortable because they don't give us much to hold onto. There is no conclusion yet. No neat explanation. No evidence that everything is working out exactly as we hoped.
So we try to escape them.
We make another plan.
We search for another sign.
We fill the silence.
We scroll.
We buy something.
We chase the next experience.
We ask ourselves, When will my life finally begin?
But perhaps the deeper invitation is not to escape the space between.
Perhaps it is to inhabit it.
The Wisdom of Not Knowing
There is something profoundly humbling about not knowing what comes next.
We like certainty because certainty makes us feel safe. We want to know where the road is leading before we agree to walk it.
But nature rarely works that way.
A seed disappears beneath the soil long before anything beautiful appears above it.
Winter looks empty while roots are quietly strengthening underground.
The sun disappears every evening without asking us whether we trust that morning will come.
So much of creation seems to understand something we forget:
Not everything that looks still is stagnant.
Some things are becoming in ways we cannot yet see.
And perhaps we are, too.
There are seasons when the most important work happening within us cannot be measured by outward progress.
We are learning patience.
We are releasing old identities.
We are becoming less afraid of silence.
We are discovering what we actually value.
We are learning to trust God without demanding that He show us the entire map.
None of that looks particularly impressive from the outside.
But neither do roots.
Stop Abandoning the Present
There is a subtle way we abandon ourselves when we constantly believe happiness lives somewhere ahead.
When this happens, I'll relax.
When I meet someone, I'll feel complete.
When I make more money, I'll enjoy my life.
When I figure out my purpose, I'll feel settled.
When everything falls into place, I'll finally be at peace.
And suddenly years can pass while we are waiting for permission to fully inhabit our own lives.
But life is not asking us to wait until everything is resolved before we participate in it.
There is coffee to drink slowly this morning.
There is sunlight moving across the kitchen floor.
There is someone who would love to hear our voice.
There is dinner to make.
There is music to play while the windows are open.
There is a body carrying us through another ordinary day.
There is beauty here.
Not someday.
Here.
The future may hold extraordinary things.
I hope it does.
But we should be careful not to love the life we imagine so much that we overlook the one quietly unfolding in our hands.
The Sacredness of the Unfinished
Maybe we were never meant to have everything figured out.
Maybe being unfinished is not a problem to solve.
There is something beautiful about becoming.
About allowing ourselves to be surprised.
About waking up without knowing exactly what life will look like a year from now.
We tend to think uncertainty means something has gone wrong.
But uncertainty is also possibility.
The blank page is uncertain.
So is the open road.
So is falling in love.
So is beginning again.
So is faith.
Faith, after all, has never required us to know what comes next.
It simply asks us to keep walking.
There is a verse I return to often:
“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10
Not figure everything out.
Not control the outcome.
Not rush ahead.
Be still.
There is something almost radical about that instruction in a world constantly telling us to optimize, achieve, manifest, improve, and become.
Maybe sometimes the holiest thing we can do is simply remain.
To say:
I don't know what comes next.
I don't know exactly how this will unfold.
But I am here.
And today, this is enough.
Perhaps This Is the Life
One day, many of the things you are waiting for will arrive.
Some will arrive differently than you imagined.
Some prayers will be answered.
Some desires will quietly disappear because you will outgrow them.
Some doors will open.
Others will close and eventually make sense.
And you will become someone you cannot fully picture yet.
But until then, there is this strange and beautiful middle.
The sacred space between wanting and becoming.
Don't rush through it.
Don't call it wasted time.
Don't assume nothing is happening simply because you cannot see the outcome yet.
Make the coffee.
Light the candle.
Walk outside.
Call someone you love.
Notice the evening sky.
Pray without needing an immediate answer.
Let yourself be unfinished.
Because perhaps peace isn't found when everything finally arrives.
Perhaps peace is learning not to abandon the life that is here while waiting for the life that is coming.
And perhaps the space between isn't something we have to get through at all.
Perhaps—
this is the life.
With so much love and warmth,
Kimberly XOXO
If you’re in a season of becoming, seeking clarity, deeper connection, or simply a little support along the way, you don’t have to navigate it alone. I offer both ongoing mentorship and one-on-one private sessions, creating a gentle, intentional space to help you reconnect with yourself and move forward with greater trust and purpose. If you feel drawn to working together, I’d be honored to walk beside you.
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