Here in the Middle Ground

Motorcycle accidents, pasta bakes, and love notes from Heaven

Earth is the meeting place between Heaven and Hell. It is, quite literally, the middle ground.

I know because I just watched a motorcycle get sideswiped by the car in front of me. We were traveling about 50 miles an hour. The motorcycle pulled out—the sun was shining right in his eyes, I reckon—and he got hit. I heard the metal crunch, the tires squeal. It all happened so close to me that I had to pull over, miles down the road, to make sure that I wasn’t somehow involved.

The motorcyclist stood up. People ran to him, his busted bike, swarming and waving their arms and calling the police. I held my hand over my mouth and wondered if I was going to throw up. From the fact that this man almost died in front of me, on this beautiful springlike morning in February. From the relief that he didn’t. And from the horror that this type of thing can happen on a Thursday morning, driving home from daycare drop off.

There—evidence of Hell. And yet, I am sitting here on my couch now and the sun is rolling through the window and I have hot coffee steaming on the coffee table. I just put a casserole dish in the fridge from a friend who knew I could use the help this week. She tucked in a Snoopy card to say she cares and I know Theo will be delighted by that, so I stuck it on the fridge for when he gets home. We’ll eat the pasta tonight after a long day and will feel loved. Evidence of Heaven.

I’ve been finding it jarring, living here in the meeting place of the most glorious and most horrifying. My body and brain feel tired and confused. To delight? To mourn? To hope? To strive? To rest? To pray? To do? It can be hard to know how to compose ourselves here in the middle ground.

Valentine’s Day was not good for the Braley family. We were hit with the dreaded stomach bug. As all parents of toddlers know, days spent cleaning vomit out of hair, clothes, bedding and baby dolls feel a lot closer to Hell than the Heaven side of things. Especially when you aren’t feeling too chipper yourself. Needless to say, there was a lot of screen time, a lot of laundry, and a lot of wondering how many more hours until this wretched day would be over.

To delight? To mourn? To hope? To strive? To rest? To pray? To do? It can be hard to know how to compose ourselves here in the middle ground.