Dear Ones of St. Columba's,

   How do you feel about the word "liminal?" I've come to love it - it describes a thin space between two states of being. I associate this word with the tender times of not-knowing what is next, the moments before a birth or awaiting a death, the times when I have become aware that something is ending but do not yet know what might be beginning. Sometimes liminal spaces find us without being sought. And, sometimes we seek liminality on purpose.

One way to look at the season of Lent is that it's a liminal space we plan for and travel through together. We purposefully change our worship practices and many of us also change our individual practices. We contemplate themes of wilderness and journey, together. And here at St. C's, we are offering an invitation to become more aware of our physical bodies during the Lenten season: how we use our bodies in worship, through the guided meditations after the sermon, and in the many embodied practices of Holy Week, which we prepare for even now. 

I have noticed that in liminal times, my relationship with my body changes. If the wilderness I find myself in is frightening or unexpected I might become more aware of my heart beating in my chest, or find that my hands are trembling. In the more sought after liminal space I find through backpacking, a literal wilderness experience, each day of carrying my pack I feel more in tune with my body - how strong I am, how weak I am, what is sore, what hurts, how good it feels to rest. 

Here is something I realize every time we walk through the liminal space of Lent together - fasting from joyful words, slowing down to light candles, kneel, cross ourselves, prepare for Holy Week. I realize that all space is liminal space. We are all held in the wilderness by the love of God, and little else. That could be a frightening thing to say, if I did not believe with my whole heart that all we truly need is to know ourselves as beloved children of God and to perceive others in this way as well. 

Easter will come, and we we revel in the certainty of life abundant, promised to us by Jesus. But let's not rush to get there. There is a sweetness, an embodied trust that we find in the liminal, in-between, wondering, not-knowing place of Lent. We are held here by the love of God. We don't need anything else.

with care and gratitude,

Alissa