Faith | Thinking back or looking ahead to thresholds brings new meaning
Thresholds are everywhere. We cross over or through them all the time.
Marking where we step in or out of a room or building via a door, originally the threshold referred to the bottom part of that place of transition from inside to outside, from here to there.
That door sill image has been expanded to all manner of ways that we begin or end something.
For example, we enter or exit across city, county, state, or national lines or boundaries (think of the Peace Arch near Blaine, Wash., for a beautiful, dramatic threshold; other lines of demarcation are less so).
Starting a new work position, grade in school, sports season or cutting the ribbon at a building’s grand opening —all represent threshold moments in our lives.
Thresholds are often located where otherwise-prohibited access or transit is permitted or guided. They are marked by doors, gates, arches, bridges, mountain passes, rivers (like crossing the River Jordan or the Missouri River or others celebrated in song and story), seashores, or even by simple gaps.
Some thresholds are protected or guarded; others are wide open for interested parties. (Much journalistic and political ink has been spilled discussing the previous sentence.)
Some threshold crossings are marked by ceremonies including blessings, graduations, weddings, promotions, retirements, or funerals. Births and deaths are more private thresholds while many ceremonies may be more public.
What happens when you cross a threshold?
I suppose it depends on the significance in the moment for you. Go back through the examples noted above. Which ones have you experienced? Which ones mattered and which did not? Which were difficult; which were relatively easy? Which were long-anticipated; which were surprises pleasant or painful?
Thinking back to important thresholds in our lives can be enriching, instructive, even corrective.
I remember driving by myself after (finally!) getting my license, with excitement and fear in equal measures. More than walking down the wedding aisle in Yakima, I remember driving away toward Mount Rainier and a new future with my beloved partner.
I remember jogging alongside my daughter as she wobbled ahead on her new bike. I can show you the exact spot on the Wenatchee Park trail where I let go of the bike seat ... and off she went! I remember crossing alone over the creaky threshold into an old studio apartment when in grad school, and then much later doing the same (without the creak) into a brand-new home with my family.
More recently, I remember going to work on my 65th birthday, which was also the day before my retirement — I wore an Aloha shirt to celebrate both thresholds!
Thresholds are ever before us. Some in our regular comings and goings, others on special occasions planned and unplanned. We can ignore them, or we can pause, pay attention, and allow their meaning to speak to us.
Whether at Passover, Dia de los Muertos, an anniversary toast, a Habitat for Humanity house blessing, or stepping into the welcome and warmth of someone’s home, thresholds await!