The sun still peeks through the clouds as the rain gently falls from the light sky. I can hear a lone bullfrog call out from the deepest part of his throat and the crickets sing their premature lullabies. They tell me that night will soon blanket the earth. This is the perfect Southern happy hour.
As I sit on my parents' porch watching the mist curl its way across the pond, I start to think about the in-between moments of life -- those moments where the music of the heart and mind fall somewhere between a bluegrass ballad and bouncy pop tune. Much like the rain falling and the sun shining simultaneously, life has different echoes that sashay around each other. So, here I am. I am in-between.
In the past when I would find myself on the cusp of a changing season, my first reaction would be to panic and run. Being in the middle can be extremely uncomfortable because it most likely means change is on the horizon. You know exactly what I'm talking about. But, I've learned to sit and listen to what's going on inside (even if it's my body screaming at me for eating that last slice of buffalo chicken pizza). Brené Brown would call the "in-between" our Act 2 and would challenge us to live there because it's where we ultimately find the answers. I don't mind hanging out in Act 2 as long as I can eat cheese puff balls on my parents' front porch for a day or two.
The sun has finally set, and the lightening bugs are competing with the stars for best in show. They know they will win tonight because the stars are behind the clouds. The lone bullfrog and the crickets didn't give answers tonight, but they did give me the opportunity to sit and be in-between. They reminded me that it was ok to be there. Why? Because I actually stopped for a minute to embrace it all and write. :)