In between

By Edith Vilamajó Sanchis

Journeying into the Unknown

A reflection on the unexpected faith found in Easter Saturday how can the darkest day give us hope in a world that seems so broken? I am travelling to an unknown land, dragging behind me a full carry-on case weighed down by promises yet to be fulfilled. The whole territory seems to lie ahead of me, vast and borderless, but I have no map in hand, and there are no signs in sight. Each step is heavy, and yet light. Each expectation is frail, yet great. In-between. I wait journeying to a better place.

I face the seas that inevitably disrupt my journey. The waves are high, menacing, enraged, and threaten to engulf me. Ocean spray brushes my skin. Swimming through them is a delusion; there is no alternative route, and turning back, from where I have, come is inconceivable. In-between. I wait, foreshadowing a liberated land on the horizon.

I dodge one more spear and run like a scared animal hunted by my enemy. Another one is thrown with full force, aiming to reach my heart one more time, maybe for the last time. I keep running, trying to breathe, gasping for air in anguish as I stumble over rocks and slip in the mud. I manage to stand up again. In-between. I wait, hiding with the hope of a new opening.

I lean back, crouching my knees, as far as I can, in the darkest cave, the sound of ferocious growling providing the only backdrop. It is cold; my body is paralyzed with shock and my whole soul is clenched in a fist. If I stop breathing, my end may come quicker. In-between. I wait, anticipating the first rays of sunlight of the morning dawn.

What If the Waiting Is Enough?

Waiting is all I have in the in-between. And I just wonder if I can defy it to be enough.

What if the waiting in-between affirmed my footsteps on a journey still unknown, raised my hopes in sudden dangers, shielded my heart not from spears but from lies, and brought light to the darkest of darknesses. What if I allowed Another to reveal my true self, and enabled me to believe that I am fully known and truly loved. What if He could shape my eyes to see a world that is neither familiar nor anticipated, emerging into unexpected beauty?

Could it be that, in waiting in the in-between, a visible pathway eventually opens up, that dry land surfaces through dampness, and freedom is found in bondage? Could extraordinary and better dreams and plans awake from those that are old and have been dashed? Could it be that, in the darkest hour of death, the waiting in-between brings life? That life births in waiting?

Our Rush to Skip the Waiting

How rapidly do I rush from the cross to the tomb, and from death to life. How promptly do I abandon the sackcloth, ashes and tears for white robes, tambourines and dancing. How eagerly do I cast aside remorse, repentance and confession to snatch forgiveness by the handful. How quickly and unapologetically do I evade the waiting in the in-between.

Yes, how quickly I forget the waiting in the in-between, bouncing from Good Friday to Easter Sunday! And yet, the calendar says it is Saturday. Easter Saturday. Why do I dread Easter Saturday?

Easter Saturday, unknown.

Easter Saturday, hopelessness.

Easter Saturday, pain.

Easter Saturday, darkness.

Easter Saturday, death.

Easter Saturday, waiting in the in-between.

But what if the secret of Easter Sunday actually hinged on the waiting of the in- between of Saturday? A day to grieve, release and finally let go? After all, Saturday marks the end of the week, it means completion and Sabbath rest. On Saturday, Jesus waited, in the in-between: defying death from life, dishonour from exaltation, despair from hope, darkness from light, lies from truth, loss from gain, trouble from opportunity, misery from richness, sorrow from joy, and the end from the beginning.

On Easter morning, waiting in the in-between is touched by glory and becomes the absolute centre of all reality. Because of Easter morning, I am held in all my waitings in the in-between, with promise, expectancy.

Edith was one of the guests on our recent Writing Greenhouse - a short term mentoring project to encourage and equip women to give writing a go.