Between Here

There are seasons that refuse to be named.

You are no longer who you were.

But you have not yet become who you are becoming.

Most of us rush through these places.

We search for answers.

For certainty.

For proof that we're still moving.

Instead,

we find ourselves walking corridors

that seem to lead nowhere.

Yet not every passage exists

to take us somewhere else.

Some exist

to change the person walking through them.

The hardest seasons rarely announce their purpose.

Only later do we realize

they were quietly reshaping the way we see.

Perhaps that is why life asks us

to keep walking

before it gives us the map.

Maybe the places between

were never empty.

Maybe they were preparing us

for a way of seeing

we couldn't have reached any other way.