God, I’m tired of feeling slightly above average, middle of the road, and unresolved.
Call it fair to middling,
Or what you will.
I confess I’ve lived a life of extremes.
I long for a thrilling life, exotic destinations, extreme conditions, and transformational stories, because this is where change happens right?
Then there has been the ditch of depression,
The pinging sensation of suffering
Which any sensible person would try to vault themselves out of,
(Anywhere but here.)
Like a dreaded airplane seat,
I sit bookended between a beginning and an end.
A window seat and an escape route.
But the middle seat can’t quite reach the desired view and freedom without elbow banging,
Stubbed toes, bumps, and clambering over a barrier.
Middle? Oh, so blasé.
I want to excel at something, to turn an exciting age, or have someone tell me,
“You’ve arrived! Finally!”
The closer I get to life’s middle, the more I see these are the places faith is lived out, love is tested, and hope matters most.
The middle is a centered stairwell where sound carries up and down, whether quiet or loud,
where I hold my past and dreams,
disappointments and victories,
pain and life in a strange dance of acceptance,
for not having an answer,
to be OK with I don’t know,
to open my arms wide to this world because I know I will never ever understand the mystery and the craziness I find myself in.
I once saw life as a line to be lived out,
A departure and destination.
I was wrong.
God, you are the center of a circle.
The one who centers me in love.
You are Three in One.
But, certainly, in your divine family, one of you must get the short straw from time to time and have to squeeze into the dreaded middle seat?
This post is part of Five Minute Friday with Kate Motaung. This week we’re writing for five minutes on the word MIDDLE. P.S. We love latecomers, as you can tell by my belated post.