Limbo

I am really bad at uncertainty.

Change I’m good at, emergencies, bring ’em on, but uncertainty makes me understand the Catholic concept of Limbo a bit more than I would like. Technically Limbo is the edge of Hell. You know right away this is Catholic because, between Heaven and Hell, Limbo sits “on the edge of Hell”, not the edge of Heaven.

The concept of Limbo got reformed a bit over the years to allow unbaptized infants to occupy a Limbo of “natural happiness” (thank you Thomas Aquinas) despite their lack of baptism. The best part about Aquinas’s version is that the infants don’t know that they are being denied salvation in Christ. The rest of the un-baptised who have not sinned enough to go suffer the tortures of Hell are eternally tormented with the knowledge that they will ever be separated from God.

If I had my druthers I would go with the ignorant infant model.

For the past month I have been sitting in Limbo as my husband is considered for a position that would require a long-distance move. There are many moving parts to that potential future (my work, my daughter’s life, buying & selling houses etc.) so I started a “Rumsfeld List” to try and wrap my mind around the Known Knowns the Known Unknowns, the Unknown Unknowns. Because that’s what you do in Limbo – plan the planning of a plan.  At least that’s what I do.

If my mother was here she would first advise “offering it up to Jesus” and then she would pray to one of her go-to Saints. St. Therese (to accept Gods will) or St. Jude (lost causes) or St. Christopher (safe travel, generically for her kids, sort of like Mrs. Weasley’s clock).

For now I think I’ll stick with the patron saint of project managers, St. Franklin-Covey, until the uncertainty, no matter the outcome, turns into certainty delivering me from Limbo.

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