Liminal

The tears started almost as soon as I turned my head away from her. She was a West Fargo bus driver that was going above and beyond. She had stopped her bus in the middle of an unplowed street. I thought this was odd, but given the recent snow and slick roads, I thought she must have stopped where she did as she had slid through the stop sign. I was wrong.

She unfolded the buses “STOP” sign and opened the doors. I assumed there was an older child getting off of the bus. I turned my head back to concentrate on the slippery walking path and kept moving. I then heard her say, in a confident, happy, sing-song voice, “There you go!”

As I swiveled my head, I saw her bent over the littlest of little ones. He was so tiny his hat and jacket seemed to engulf him. She was standing closely behind him. Her hands were gently upon his back, encouraging him, guiding him, supporting him. She was helping him cross the rough, unplowed street. The energy of this simple, courteous, kind act along with the beauty surrounding the protective safeguarding of this tiny little sprout was wondrous.

The physical scene playing out before my eyes caused me to smile. I turned my head forward once again and continued on my walk. I was thinking how amazing it was that I was able to witness this kindness, this glimpse of humanity. But before I had fully taken two steps, I was overcome with emotional pain and my smile faded. I began sobbing in an unstoppable, cathartic kind of way.

 LIMINAL:

  1. of or relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.
  2. occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

I had never heard this word prior to Monday. Susie said it about me during our recent Reiki session.  To put it in laymen’s terms, think of “liminal” as the point where you have exhaled but have not yet begun to inhale or when something ends and something else has yet to begin. Liminal.

She intuited that I had sustained a “big hit.” That “hit” was received directly in my emotional heart and it brought me to my knees. I felt raw, exposed, and vulnerable. I was in shock. I had to draw on every bit of emotional healing and spiritual growth I had done over the years just to avoid becoming irrevocably broken.

I cancelled my yoga session for today. I didn’t really know why; I didn’t have a good explanation for Andrea other than I needed to cancel. This started a series of events.  My beloved husband asked me if I was going to be out and about today. I told him no. He mentioned he wanted to check out his land and take pictures. I brushed it off and said I was comfy in my pajamas.

A few minutes later I looked up from cyber-land and glanced out the window. The snow had stopped and the wind was calm. I decided to put on my boots and go for a walk. Walking has always been my choice of mental elixirs and cardio.

I was returning from said walk when the school bus slid to a halt and the scenario began to play out. I found myself thinking that in a world that seems to have gone bat shit crazy for so many of us, there is still hope for mankind. There is still beauty to be seen. There are still random acts of kindness to be witnessed.

This…THIS was the true reason I was led to cancel my yoga session. I know it. I feel it.  A little healing energy/love wrapped up as a bus driver and a littlie. THIS is why the succession of the other non-coincidental events unfolded the way they did. THIS was my liminal, my suspended breath. It’s over now. I’m breathing again and I am looking forward to the something new that is beginning.


NOTE: What emotionally took place isn’t for you to know, at least not now. Someday, I may write about it but for now, I choose to keep it private. Please respect this. I will not answer questions and I do not have it in me to respond to your individual well-wishing, encouraging emails, texts, FB posts and phone messages. If you’d like to send me love spiritually, I’d welcome that. Know that I’ll thank you spiritually, too.

2 Responses

  1. Donna Skuza

    Thank you for sharing this. I drove school bus for 16 years and can really identify with both the child and the driver. Blessings to you for a peaceful Christmas.
    Donna

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