Liminality

       Gabriel and I decided to skip church this morning and have our own mini church service at home. He had to work at noon, so going to church would mean he’d have to rush off, leaving church early to begin his seven-hour shift, and that’s not a very peaceful morning. We like our mornings together. We made coffee, I toasted a bagel and we got swept up in conversation, forgetting to keep track of the time. Before we knew it, the morning was gone and he had to rush to work. I climbed back in bed, frustrated that our morning plans had slipped away from us. I don’t do well with plans falling through—another PTSD side effect—anything unexpected is tough to adjust to. 

After a few tears I felt the dark storm clouds gathering in my mind. I didn’t want another afternoon to spiral out of my control, so I quickly looked up podcasts from Central Vineyard, the church I attended in high school. I saw that a woman presented the sermon from December 1, 2013, and that was enough of a reason for me to listen to it. Jessie Boettcher, the women speaking, introduced a fancy anthropological term ‘liminality’ to describe the moment when the Angel Gabriel rocked Mary’s world with life changing news. A liminal moment is a moment in a person’s life where they are suddenly between identities. It’s a threshold moment.

“Even though you’re a virgin, you’re going to be the mother of God. His name will be Jesus.”

The ultimate pregnancy announcement/gender reveal. No Pinterest-worthy photo shoot necessary. The previous life Mary knew was shattered in an instant, and she consented in faith, and I can imagine, a fair bit of shock. 

I remember the doctor coming to me in the hospital, looking more nervous and awkward than you’d expect an ER doctor to be. 

“Well…you’re pregnant. So that’s a positive…literally.” Less angelic fanfare, but that was my annunciation moment. 

Being raped has shattered the identity I used to comfortably waltz through life with. Rape survivors often vividly recall the first time looking in a mirror after being raped. It was hours after the attack before I was first allowed to use the restroom in the hospital. They had to complete the rape kit before I could clean myself. When I was finally given the green light, I rushed into the small bathroom across the hall and stopped–horrified–in front of the mirror. There was dried blood surrounding my nose and mouth and scratches running down my neck. My hair was disheveled, my ears swollen, and my left gold leaf earring was missing. But locking eyes with myself was the most jarring. The blue eyes I was staring into were not my own. I’m less shocked when I see the strange blue eyes in the mirror these days, but honestly I hardly look. I don’t recognize myself.  

The carpet was ripped out from under me and I was shoved into a liminal moment. The structure of the world I knew had been destroyed and chaos surrounded me. Jessie classified liminal moments as “uncomfortable.” I have to confirm that, yes, it is a very disturbing thing not to recognize yourself. Personality tests of all sorts are trending on Facebook right now. What Disney Princess are you? Which Doctor from Doctor Who are you? What Love Actually character are you? Talk about a nightmare for the poor souls drifting in liminal moments. 

Trying to settle into a new identity has been impossible with the seemingly never-ending waves of change rushing through my life. I became a fiancé, and now I am a wife. We have moved twice and travelled to different states nearly every month. And as my tummy continues to expand and my clothes grow tighter, I’m reminded every minute that I will soon have another new title—mom.  

Mary understood that unexpected pregnancy announcements are total life changers. She travelled 50 miles to visit her miraculously pregnant cousin Elizabeth, the only solid ground she could find in the angel’s announcement of great change. She stayed with Elizabeth for three months, being encouraged and blessed before returning to her life of uncertainty with Joseph. Mary ran to solidarity and sanctuary, finding rest in her liminal moment. 

       As funny as it sounds, Gabriel is my Elizabeth. His life has been drastically altered along with mine. We go through these changes together.  We are still in a state of flux; our physical location changes nearly as fast as my moods do! But he has stayed by my side, encouraging and blessing me as we teeter on the threshold of yet another major change—parenthood. I’ve been told being a mother changes everything about you. It’s a life shift that I can only try to mentally prepare for, but honestly, I’m still reeling from the last 180° change. 

       Mary took her needed sabbatical with Elizabeth. I am trying to rest with Gabriel through this chaos. Mary had faith in the ever-present nature of God. She believed that he was present with her then and would be present in the future - and he would take care of all the moments in between. Today I was encouraged by the thought that receiving the news of carrying even God’s child, warranted some upset. I’m not the only expecting mama-to-be that finds impending motherhood daunting. 

       Today I have a little more faith that “God is mindful of the state of His humble servant.” God did not abandon Mary to uneasiness and fear in her liminal moment, and He has not left me alone in mine. He has given me Gabriel, and a family that has opened their arms and doors to us. Jessie Boettcher also taught that liminal moments are finite. They end. No matter how lonely being a rape survivor is—or even how isolating being pregnant can feel—today I have more faith that God sees it all, he has a plan to make sense of it and will take care of the in between. 


Here's the link for the sermon by Jessie Boettcher. Listen to it if you can. 
http://www.centralvineyard.com/storage/podcast/2013/Sermon%2012-1-13.mp3