Before I left JAARS, I commented that I was going into “the unknown .” A co-laborer, and near neighbor, started reciting from memory a poem she wrote. I have her permission to share it with you.

The In Between

I’ve never been this way before

Looking back at the distant shore

Many people I’ve met and places I’ve seen

But now I’m just somewhere in between

 

What lies behind and what lies ahead

It’s not really clear what will be instead

Of the things I’ve known and the people I’ve met

But I know God is not through with me yet

 

Nevertheless I must face today

With each step I take, God will show the way

Clinging to His unseen hand

Groping in darkness, I don’t understand

 

All that is happening and causing me grief

In light of eternity this period is brief

But for now it’s painful – this stage in between

What lies ahead and what’s already been seen

 

Heavenly Father, I want to trust you more

To fully know what you have in store

For your fearful and trembling child

Who’s prone to wander with thoughts running wild

 

Hold me steady, let me cry as I may

Read my journal for that’s how I pray

During this period of in between

What lies ahead and what’s already been seen

 

May the decisions I make be good and wise

Pleasing to you as you help me rise

To new heights that I’ve not yet seen

That will take me from the in between

 

When one day I’ll look back and say

Why so fearful, God knew the way?

And was leading me all the while

To a new chapter where I would once again smile

 

And I’ll look back to all that’s been seen

Including this period of the in between

Where I experienced your presence so close and dear

As you personally wiped each falling tear

 

And reminded me we’re all in between

Not fully imagining what is yet to be seen

When we see you in glory face to face

But until then, may I run the race

 

A race set before me though long it may be

Will be worth it all when your face I see

And there will be no more in between

For all that you are will be gloriously seen

Written by Gail Boemker

February 24, 2011