In the in-between place

he met me,

between certainty and doubt,

acceptance and denial,

brokenness and wholeness,

he met me.

+

he met me in my wanderings

and my meanderings,

in this neither coming

nor going space

in the in-between space he met me…

+

he met me and he called me by name,

not minding my

neither here nor there disposition,

not, or so it seemed,

caring that I didn’t really know what I wanted…

+

he met me,

and laid his hand upon me,

and suddenly I knew,

clearer than air,

that what I wanted stood before me

in the in-between space

he became my anchor,

my still point,

my love,

my life….