In Between: A Midweek Blessing from the Road
On traveling, presence, and the quiet places where love still knows your name.
Dear fellow pilgrim,
I’m writing from within a time of travel—moving through old places and memories in my home country of Germany. And yet, my soul is somewhere in between. My mind is scattered: between world news, the family difficulties back home, health concerns shadowing my husband’s days, and the occasional surprise of fragile joys, of being here, now, looking at a worn cobblestone.
I do not sleep well. My soul cannot find its footing. Even while traveling, presence feels out of reach.
And then I looked at this photo I took some days ago.
A narrow alley in the old town of Erfurt, shadowed and lined with graffiti.
A single figure walking toward the light.
A half-timbered house waiting at the far end.
It struck me: this is an in-between place, one of those thresholds of which the spiritual teachers speak — liminal spaces where nothing is certain and everything is in flux.
So my midweek blessing comes to you today, from the road,
from these in-between places…
where presence flickers, memory stirs, and love waits quietly beneath the surface.
It took my mother five days to recognize me this time.
At first, she welcomed me as a kind visitor.
Puzzled. Tentative.
She called me by my older sister’s name who lives closer by.
But something in her lingered—
as if her body remembered
what her mind couldn’t yet name.
One afternoon, just the two of us walking,
she looked at me again and said softly,
“I’m sorry. I feel so strange…
I’m not sure I really know who you are.”
I smiled and said gently,
“That’s okay, Mom. I know you know me deep inside.
I’m Almut. Your daughter. Visiting from America.”
And suddenly, her whole face changed.
She lit up—not just in surprise, or as a host greeting a guest,
but as a mother recognizing her lost child.
We both hugged. We both cried.
In-between spaces.
This is where lost love lives—
between forgetting and remembering,
between knowing and bewilderment,
between who we were
and who we have yet to become.
A Blessing for the In-Between
May your heart
not be afraid
when your mind lingers
in the uncertain places.
Rest, instead, in what
is still becoming,
even when clarity eludes you.
May the unfinished
hold you gently—
and love meet you,
precisely
where the map fades.
A gentle wondering
Where in your life do you feel in between?
What does your soul need in that space—rest, clarity, accompaniment?
What kind of love becomes possible when nothing is yet resolved?
This summer, my writing may take a different shape—
scattered, reflective, sometimes raw.
I’m calling them Letters from the Road—
words and images from old hometowns, ancient alleyways,
hospital rooms, quiet fields.
They’re not polished. But they are real.
A photo essay from the road will follow later this week.
Until then, thank you for walking, with me,
through these in-between places.
With love,
Almut
Thank you for reading, sharing and supporting Cloister Notes, an independent letter for dancing monks and weary pilgrims to deepen your path and find wisdom with-in.
If these words have moved something in you, consider becoming a paid subscriber. You'll join a small circle of fellow pilgrims on the deeper way, receive seasonal offerings, and help keep this labor of love going—coffee brewing, candles burning, and words finding their way.
You can share this letter by simply forwarding this email or by sharing it on your social networks.
Further reading from our Gardening as Spiritual Practice Series:
In case you missed it
From our (mid) weekly blessings:
About Cloister Notes
A letter for dancing monks and weary pilgrims in the intersection of psychology, philosophy and spirituality. Contemplations on being human to deepen your path, nourish your heart and build wisdom within.
About The Weary Pilgrim
Almut is a German American psychologist turned philosopher turned writer, traveler, photographer, retreat leader and mother of a kindergartener. She has taught and published on authors like Kierkegaard, Buber, Frankl, Yalom, Edith Stein, and Hildegard of Bingen. Almut is also a Benedictine Oblate and lives with her family in a little college town in the American Midwest.
You can manage your subscription here.
Gentle peace to you in the space you find yourself with your beloved mother. I have been there too, the child from too far away, forgotten but still recognised. My own dear Mumma once said to me 'I don't know who you are but you're lovely'. It was enough.
Almut--it is so difficult and intense when what we thought would be, is not, not even close to what we imagine. I'm so sorry that this is that time for you...too many uncertainties combined with loss. I'm so glad, though, the love of mother and child was awakened in your mother...to recognize you with a warmth in her soul. And you shared tears of love, and joy and hope...that which binds generations together. Peace be with you on your journey though this time. 🙏