Learning to Sit in the In-Between

 There’s a space between seasons that we never name.

Winter is dramatic. Spring is celebrated. Summer gets the photos. Fall gets the poetry. But the in-between? The weeks where snow melts and nothing blooms yet? The days where the air is confused and the light shows up late? We skip over that part.

We want arrivals. We want endings. We want “it’s finally here” moments. So we treat the in-between like a waiting room. Something to get through, not something to live in.

But what if the in-between has something to teach us?

*1. Sabar isn’t just waiting. It’s attention.*  

Patience isn’t staring at the door until it opens. It’s noticing what’s already in the room. The way quiet sounds different at 6am vs 11pm. The way your thoughts slow down when you stop rushing them. The way “nothing is happening” is actually “a lot is happening, just quietly.”

We think sabar means holding your breath. Maybe it means breathing differently. Smaller breaths. Steadier ones. Breaths that don’t need a finish line to be valid.

*2. Shukur isn’t only for big blessings.*  

Gratitude gets loud when good news arrives. We say “Alhamdulillah” when the door opens. But shukur can be quiet too. 

Shukur for tea that’s exactly the right temperature. 

Shukur for 10 minutes without notifications. 

Shukur for a sky that clears for no reason. 

Shukur for the fact that today is not a copy-paste of yesterday, even if it feels like it.

Small shukur doesn’t make the in-between disappear. It just makes it lighter to carry.

*3. Nothing growing doesn’t mean nothing changing.*  

Under frozen ground, roots are busy. Before a door opens, hinges are loosening. Before a story changes, your understanding of it does. 

We miss it because change doesn’t always look like change. Sometimes it looks like stillness. Sometimes it looks like repetition. Sometimes it looks like “there’s nothing here.”

But “nothing here” is still a place. And places hold us while we figure out what comes next.

*So if you’re in an in-between right now…*  

You don’t have to force spring.  

You don’t have to pretend you’re fine.  

You don’t have to have a 5-step plan.

You’re allowed to sit. To notice. To write one sentence and leave the page half-empty. To call that enough.

Sabar is staying without demanding speed.  

Shukur is noticing without demanding more.

This blog is called _Sabar and Shukur Diaries_ because I want a place for the unnamed seasons. For the pages that don’t have conclusions yet. For the thoughts that aren’t ready to be lessons.

There’s nothing here yet.  

But the in-between is worth recording.  

And one day, when we look back, we’ll see that the in-between was the part that made us.

Until then — one breath, one note, one quiet shukur at a time.

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Riham Dahir ❤️👌✅