“Just rest in the Lord,” my best friend mumbled into her coffee cup as she scooted out of her chair to leave the cafe. I had just confided in her about a situation at work that was worrying me. It felt good to vent to a trusted friend, and as I gathered my belongings to follow her out, I felt better cathartically, superficially, but did I really feel better?

Many of us even heard those pointed words growing up: “Shame on you,” accompanied by a wagging finger. Raised to be a good, obedient, nice girl, you re-double your efforts, especially with God, to silence the shame.

For so many years, I tried to manage a life of constant busyness. My pace was rush, rush, rush — day in and day out. It felt like all I did was shuffle my kids around, toting them to-and-from private school, a 25-minute commute each way. For several years, when they were on different schedules, I drove this path back-and-forth several times a day. Five years of this wore me down.

These in-between seasons can be difficult—the ones that fall between hope and heartbreak, between praying and receiving, between holding on and letting go. You’re no longer where you were, but not yet where you hoped to be. And your heart feels caught somewhere between striving and surrender. This is where I’ve been lately. Maybe you can relate.