Sitting on my coat in Nando's

We got the train back from Cornwall. Five hours in total, unless it's 'hot' and the train has to go really slowly over the melting track (yes I'm talking about the UK in April), then it's six hours. Then a stop-stop-start tube at the end of the journey. We went straight to Nando's as we were starving, had no food at home, and it was past kiddie-teatime.

There were no tables free and we had to wait. By this time Harry was all out of the ability to wait, but he was also too tired, hungry and worn out to do anything else. He spread his coat out on the floor by the entrance to the restaurant, and sat there, with all energies spent. I knew to move him would be the last straw so I just let him be.

I know how he feels. In certain seasons, in certain circumstances, I feel like I've done all the waiting I can, but have nothing in me to do anything else. I now have a prayer that goes 'God, I'm on my coat in Nando's!'  Trouble is, I am increasingly convinced that life is largely about learning to wait well.

Right now, my season feels like an awful lot of uncertainty. A lot of wondering just how the pieces of our lives are going to fit together. And not much to do except take it slow and do the next little bit.

As I attend a baptist church I am out of touch with the seasons and rhythms of the liturgical year. However, I do know that we are between the ascension (Jesus goes back to heaven) and Pentecost (the disciples receive the Holy Spirit). I know this because the Archbishop of Canterbury has a prayer initiative focused on these very days. There are a whole host of resources on the website, including daily prayers entitled 'conversations in the in-between'.

The in-between times are a thing. They are a season, ordained and ordered by God just as much as the decisive, happening, eventful days. They have their own blessings, wisdom, strength and joy to bestow. I hope I don't miss them because I'm not looking.