Stuck between

I love to look at the backs of quilts.  There is often a beauty to the quilting that gets lost or masked by the colors of fabric on the front, and a plain background on the back often makes the patterns and the stiches stand out.  And of course between the top and the back is the batting-- that fluffy middle that does the yeoman's work of a quilt, giving lift to the quilting and warmth to the one being covered with the quilt.  That batting gets pretty smashed in between the layers.

I suppose it is part of the human condition to feel stuck between things. That seems to be a recent theme of my life: with a myriad of brilliant and wonderful doctor-specialists, I sometimes feel picked to pieces, each doc wanting to deal with his or her own part, but not with me as a whole.  I feel torn between my beloved family members all over the country, wanting to be with them, but being far from some and close to others.  But it never seems to be right.

That is, of course, because of my biggest in-between. I am in this fallen world and don't belong here, and not yet in nor fit for my home in heaven.  There is an old song by Glad that says it well:

The depth of your dreams, the height of your wishes

The length of your visions I see

The hope of your heart is much bigger than this

For it's made out of what might be

So now picture your hope, your heart's desire

As a castle that you must keep

And all of its spelndor, it's drafty with lonely

This heart is too hard to heat

when I get lonely, now that's only my sign

That some room is empty in me, and that room is there by design

If I feel hollow, well that's just my proof that there's more

I need to follow

And that's what the lonely is for

That's what the lonely is for

But you could seal up the pain

Build walls in the hallways, close off a small room to live in

But then those walls would remain

And keep you there always

You would never know why you were given,

Why you were given that lonely

Why you were given that empty in your heart

Why you were given that hollow

That's just your proof that there's more you need to follow

That's what the lonely is for

Feels like a curse, not a blessing

This palace of promise

When the empty chill makes you weep

With only the thin fire of romance to warm you

These halls are too tall and deep

When I get lonely, well that's only my sign

Some room is empty in me and that room is there by design

If I feel hollow, well that's just my proof that there's more

For me to follow

And that's what the lonely is for

For me to follow, that's what the lonely is for

So, on this crushed-between-the-layers kind of day, Gentle Reader, I am clinging to the God who designed me and trusting He knows what he is doing in my life, and in yours.

“I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to be, I am not what I hope to be in another world; but still I am not what I once used to be, and by the grace of God I am what I am”
― John Newton