The Catholics used to teach about this intermediate state called Limbo, the abode of unbaptized infants and those who died before Christ’s coming.
Not hell or purgatory or heaven. Nowhere.
The Roman church does not teach limbo anymore but the word is still redolent of treading water, heading neither forward nor back. Just there. Stuck.
For me Turkey Creek is Limbo.
I am here floating on its glassy waters of oblivion.
I am quite happy and contented spending two months soaking up the abundance of oxygen pouring into the atmosphere from the lush, rain-foresty, environment.
I look out of my familiar upstairs office window and absorb the same view as before.
The truck opposite is still shrouded in its canvas cover.
The avocado tree is bearing fruit.
The man on the corner continues to live on his broken down boat and drive his RV as a car.
The house next door stands empty, its blinds open to reveal a through view of the run-down house beyond.
The German couple still come everyday to work on their boat moored alongside another boat that hasn’t been moved all year. They tell us about their winters in the Bahamas, familiar stories from last year.
Cats still tease the dogs as we walk in the mornings.
Violent rain storms burst upon us in the afternoon, cooling the air, livening things up, deja vu.
Golf carts still hum slowly by the driveway twice a day with the same people out for a breath of hot air.
The mail lady still honks her horn when she has a package.
And on and on we go in our sleepy sameness.
The last nine months fade into the space between moving pavements at an airport,
A split in an audio podcast,
A scratch on a vinyl record,
Or a glitch in a computer programme.
A blink and I am back at my desk overlooking the avocado tree,
Where time has stopped and I am still.
There was no surge of excitement, no rapture of glory, no emotional high on my return to this beautiful corner of the world.
There was only sameness, familiarity, a feeling of otherworldliness.
God has put me on hold in this verdant limbo while I finish editing another book and things carry on without me in my separate life at home.
He knows best how to teach me patience while I learn to trust like the spider spinning her web on fronds of grass.
She is used to beginning again letting out threads and twisting filaments until the delicate silks glisten in the dawn and her work is done.
I too am poised on the edge of the morning sun waiting to sparkle.
In Turkey Creek I can gather my wits about me in the lap of my heart, drink from God’s living waters and refresh the deepest reaches of my soul.
For this moment I can appreciate
“…the peace of God that surpasses all understanding [that] will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7)
Nestled in Turkey Creek where God always was, always is and always shall be, unchanging.
I hang in limbo and simply be…
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
No comments so far!
Leave a Comment