A concept from my book Heart to Heart, came to mind as I watched a struggling patient climb out of their car and push through the front door of the physical therapist’s office. As my eyes followed their actions, I garnered my own strength and moved from my car to the very same office…

How did I end up here? In my haste to fill the bird feeders before the Christmas ice storm arrived, I slipped on my back porch steps. Before I knew it, I found myself on the ground at the bottom step covered in birdseed with my knee twisted at a very odd angle.

The emergency department’s x-ray reported that my knee was not broken. However, the big brace wrapped around my leg spoke to me and said, “Sit back. This might take a while.”

The brace was correct. Through an unfortunate slip, I moved from the world of wellness to that of being a patient. I even had my very own name band wrapped around my wrist. To work my way back to wellness took time. There was my own stubbornness to face. Most of the work happened in that in between space of time and transition called liminal.

The liminal is like a threshold: the small piece of wood at the bottom of the door frame that forms the slim space between two rooms. This space is unique in that it is not quite here and not quite there yet holds a bit of both and provides a transition between the two.

Watching my fellow patient hobble from car to office door reminded me of the 2016 study by Pigott, Hargreaves, and Power cited in my book, Heart to Heart. The study explored the use of holding spaces in commercial buildings. These are spaces in which an individual may pause and reorient before moving on to the next space in their journey.

Transitional Space

Many churches have a space in the back by the entry doors where one can pause before entering the sanctuary. Medical offices have a room for those waiting to see the healthcare provider. These areas not only have chairs for waiting but also provide a transitional space that helps one prepare to switch paradigms.

In this case, the shift was from wellness to needing care. A transitional space is the space of preparation. Only recently did I discover its importance.

My doctor’s waiting room was empty when I entered, and that surprised me. I expected to share the space with others, imagining we would acknowledge each other and wait for the call to the next step of moving behind the reception counter. Instead, I was checked in and then whisked directly down the hall to the examination room without a moment to adjust to the office space. The unexpected move felt awkward and disorienting.

I guess I could have asked for a moment to catch my breath, but the moment only moved forward. So, I too chose to move forward. I wanted all to be well. History proves that those who can adapt to an evolving situation are more likely to survive such a transition.

“Healing takes time” is one of those axioms I’ve heard all my life. And as happens so often, I found the saying to be true. The accident happened at Christmas. Now, spring flowers push against the warming soil to grow and bloom in the sun.

The seasons slowly changed from one to another. Like the imperceptible growth of winter, my movements were slow and quiet through my recovery. I laid low, rested, and faithfully submitted to physical therapy. Now like spring, I was restless and ready to move back through this transitional period between hurt and healed.

Last month I set aside the cane. This month I completed a full set of tai chi movements without having to sit and rest.

The liminal space provided a holding place for me as I recovered. One day a thought struck me. Maybe we as a people have been in a similar place, as we move on to a world of change that continues to unfold:

• Is it possible that in the quiet, liminal space since the lockdown, we tapped into our resilience as we moved from the need for care and cure to become healed and whole?
• Is it possible that we as a people are adapting to life’s changes and transitioning into something new?
• Is it possible that after this time of quiet reorientation, we are ready to emerge and embrace an ever-evolving change for the good?

These questions came to me not as I lay on the ground covered with birdseed with the idea of recovery far in the future. It was in the quiet time as I discovered my limitations were temporary and that healing could occur.

The questions came as I moved back through the threshold of transition to embrace a life where wholeness and health were possible. Little acts of determination moved me slowly but surely back to a healthy life.

We are not chained to a negative past, and we don’t have to carry the negative forward with us. It might take a little time and require a little stubbornness but the possibility for wholeness remains.

Take time to acknowledge what you’ve survived and continue forward through it, and don’t rush the process. Growth awaits ahead. It comes through the quiet times of reflection.