the limbo bench

In Lament for a Son Nicholas Wolsterstorff writes about the mourning bench.

The gift of someone willing to sit on the bench with you.

Not (necessarily) saying anything. Not trying to make you feel better. 

To just sit and be present with you in the fullness of your grief.

Lately I have come to identify another bench in life: the limbo bench.

You could call it the transition bench, the liminal bench, the bench in-between.

Whatever you call it, sitting there can feel overwhelming and uncomfortable.

{Never-ending}

Sitting on the bench can be lonely.

I have a friend who is really good at sitting with me on the limbo bench.

A friend who is unfazed by the inevitable slips into the depths of self-doubt.

A friend who doesn't try and offer answers to the questions uttered on the bench.

A friend who doesn't set out to make me "feel better."

A friend who just sits with me on the bench...

in the fullness of my impatience and fatigue of the in-between.

{We sit together on the bench}

We laugh. We cry. We are silent.

We sit. 

In limbo

Together.