Sometimes it feels like my mind is real estate full of tenants who refuse to pay rent. I don’t just mean people; my decisions and consequences love to host loud obnoxious parties whenever I lay down and try to sleep.

All joking aside, I have heard a lot lately about liminal space, the space between moments. It is a heavy place, full of hope and fear. Controlling anxiety in that space can be hard, forcing us to rush through, but rushing through can be dangerous. However, the tension arises when we refuse to leave after last call. The desire to wait in the “wood between worlds,” and the need to leave is an obnoxious tension that rests in the human condition.