The Space Between

An old friend called this week and told me a story about introducing a woman he’s been dating to a visiting family member. Politeness dictated she come inside and meet my friend’s aunt, but she wasn’t ready to meet the family and it resulted in tension between them. I told my friend that while I understood his girlfriend's not being ready, I hoped she understood that there was a lot of space between coming inside and politely saying hello to a boyfriend’s visiting aunt and joining his entire family for their Christmas morning celebration.

And that got me thinking about space.

My boyfriend and I are in kind of a weird place at the moment. Ours is a long-distance relationship, but we’ve decided we want to be together permanently. He plans to move to Seattle and we’re both so excited about the prospect we can hardly stand it. But between the prospect and the reality is a lot of space. Finding a job, a place to live and the money to fund the move all have to happen before he can get here. We’re trying to not let the stress of all that must happen before we can be together diminish our happiness, but it’s hard. Some days the space between the prospect and the reality seems insurmountable.

My sweet Ben is doing so well in school that he might “test out” of special education services at the end of the school year. I’m so proud of his incredible progress and yet so scared of how he will handle it when he must go it alone at school. The space between appearing typical enough to test out of services and actually leading a typical existence scares me. What if I can’t provide him all the help he needs?

I’ve written recently about some pretty big projects to which I’ve committed myself, and at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I worry that I’ll disappoint someone, most likely myself.  The space between my intentions—to chair the autism walk successfully, complete the school yearbook on time, finish the first 50 pages of a book, submit articles to publications on a regular basis (and of course, mail birthday cards in a timely fashion)—and that which I will actually accomplish is causing me to feel anxious.

I’ve been feeling scared, frustrated, overwhelmed and apprehensive about the space between, but my conversation with an old friend—the one that got me thinking—made me realize that I’ve been looking at it all wrong. The space between isn’t something to be feared, endured or overcome. In fact, the space between may just be what life is all about. In “Beautiful Boy,” John Lennon wrote, “Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans.” Perhaps the key is simply learning to find some joy, no matter how small, in  that space between. That space where life happens.

The space between exchanging niceties and joining the family, between prospect and reality, your child’s reliance on you and his burgeoning independence. The space between an idea for a book and a completed work, between economic struggle and financial freedom, intentions and accomplishments. Quite simply, the space between where you are and where you’re going—between who you are and who you want to be. Life happens in the space between and I believe it’s possible that whether or not we can find joy in that space may very well determine if we can find joy in life.

As I did this week, I often have to remind myself to look for the joy in that space between. Sometimes I have to look very hard. But each time I manage to find some joy there, I hope I’m teaching my children an enduring lesson: always keep an eye on where you’re going, but remember to find joy in the space between while you’re getting there. Revel in the messy, undone-ness of it all. Embrace the possibilities that can only exist in that space. Feel the fear that lives there and move forward anyway. And when you get to where you’re going, celebrate your success, enjoy the rewards of having gotten there and even pat yourself on the back.

And then, Ben and Lucy…make some more space.