The Space In Between
I've always been drawn to negative space — the white space around the black text, the unspoken culture in a new city, the water the goldfish is swimming in. I've been seeing lately how God shows up here, so bound up it can't be separated.
I see this when I watch Studio Ghibli's Whisper of the Heart — voices raised at lunch time, singing new lyrics tentatively written as the school bell cuts through. In the furtive story-writing at the tiny desk squashed next to the bunk bed in the tiny flat that has mould patches on its walls, and the bike rides past grimy buildings to see a sunset or a mysterious new friend.
In my daily reality, God shows up in the overlaps of people with different histories and lens and bumps and bruises, in the missed frequencies and frustrations, in our deep human limitedness, in our showing up to love again and again. You show up in the noisy kids in service, in the videos blasted out loud by uncles on the bus. You are there in the young father sitting in the row in front of me in service toppling over from his heavy backpack, then raising his hands in worship moments later. This is where life is, and life is where You are.
You are there in the in the silence of the Hokkaido hotel room, punctuated by the dings and blips of my mother's block puzzle game, where she sits cozily at the edge of the bed with bags all packed an hour ago, before we head to the airport after a vacation full of magical moments. You are in the mundane tasks my writing comrades are getting done at our Wednesday Shut Up and Write! group — the LinkedIn profiles to update, the letters to mothers, in between any actual writing and any kind of publishing deals.
It's these spaces in between that make me feel less alone, ground and inspire me, bring me to praise.