Last week, we met Princess, a young Native American woman who had to leave everything behind when her husband Abe received a calling from God. She packed up her life on the Chaldean Indian reservation, said goodbye to her sister Mickie and her Uncle Nate, and followed Abe into the unknown.
This week, I want to talk about what happens after you leave. About what it’s like when “home” becomes something you carry with you instead of something you return to.
Living in Liminal Space
Princess and Abe live in an RV with her brother Louis, traveling through Texas with no permanent address, no roots, no place to call their own. Everything they own fits into a small space on wheels. They’re constantly moving, constantly searching, constantly waiting for God to show them where they’re supposed to land.
It’s exhausting. It’s disorienting. And it’s incredibly lonely.
Princess isn’t just grieving the home she left behind. She’s grieving the home she can’t seem to find. Every campground looks the same. Every town is temporary. Every conversation with strangers reminds her that she doesn’t belong anywhere anymore.
She’s living in what I call “liminal space,” that in-between place where you’re no longer who you were but you’re still figuring out who you’re becoming. You’ve left the old life behind, but the new life hasn’t fully formed yet. You’re just suspended in the middle, waiting.
The Weight of Someone Else’s Certainty
Here’s what makes it even harder: Abe is certain. He heard from God. He has a promise. He has a vision. He knows this journey has purpose, even when the road feels endless.
But Princess? She’s following someone else’s certainty. She didn’t hear the voice. She didn’t receive the promise. She’s trusting Abe’s faith because she doesn’t have her own promise to hold onto.
That creates a painful dynamic. Abe can endure the uncertainty because he has divine assurance. Princess has to endure the uncertainty and the silence. She has to trust that Abe heard correctly, that God really did speak, that this upheaval will eventually make sense.
It’s one thing to follow God when you’ve heard His voice yourself. It’s another thing entirely to follow someone who follows God, hoping that their faith is strong enough to carry you both.
When You Can’t Go Back
There’s a moment in Barren where Princess realizes she can’t go back to the reservation, even if she wanted to. Too much has changed. She’s changed. The life she left behind doesn’t exist anymore, not in the same way.
That’s the hard truth about leaving: sometimes you can’t go back. Even if the new place doesn’t feel like home yet, the old place isn’t home anymore either. You’re caught between two worlds, belonging fully to neither.
Maybe you’ve felt this too. Maybe you left a job, a relationship, a city, a version of yourself, and realized you couldn’t return to what was. Maybe you’re in that liminal space right now, wondering when you’ll finally feel settled again.
Princess’s story is for you. It’s for anyone who’s ever felt unmoored, displaced, caught between the life they left and the life they’re still waiting to find.
The Biblical Sarai: Wandering Without a Home
In Genesis 12, after Abram and Sarai leave their homeland, they wander. They move from place to place. They live as nomads, strangers in foreign lands, never quite settling.
Genesis 12:9 says, “Abram journeyed on, continuing toward the Negev.” Continuing. Always continuing. Never arriving.
And Sarai? She’s right there beside him, packing up the tent again and again, moving to the next place, waiting for the promise to materialize. She’s living in perpetual transition, perpetual uncertainty, perpetual homesickness for a place that no longer exists and a place that doesn’t exist yet.
We don’t often talk about how hard that must have been. We celebrate the faith journey, but we forget the exhaustion of the journey itself. We focus on the promise, but we forget the years of waiting in the in-between.
Princess’s Struggle
In Barren, Princess wrestles with all of this. She tries to make the RV feel like home, but it’s hard to nest in a space that’s always moving. She tries to connect with Abe, but his certainty sometimes feels like a wall between them. She tries to pray, but God feels distant, silent, absent.
And yet, she keeps going. She keeps waking up in a new place. She keeps trusting, even when trust feels like the hardest thing she’s ever done. She keeps walking, even when she doesn’t know where the path leads.
That’s the quiet courage of Princess’s story. It’s the courage to keep moving forward when you don’t have a map. It’s the courage to trust someone else’s faith when your own feels fragile. It’s the courage to live without a home while you’re searching for one.
A Question for You
Have you ever lived in liminal space? That in-between place where you’ve left the old life but haven’t fully stepped into the new one yet? What did it feel like? How did you find the courage to keep going when you didn’t know where you were headed?
I’d love to hear your story in the comments. This is a space for honest conversation about the hard parts of faith, the exhaustion of waiting, and the courage it takes to keep walking when you can’t see the destination.
What’s Next
Next week, we’ll talk about betrayal. About what happens when the person you trusted most makes a decision that puts you in danger. About the moment when Princess realizes that Abe’s faith might cost her everything.
It’s a hard part of the story, but it’s an important one. Because sometimes, following someone else’s calling doesn’t just mean leaving home. Sometimes it means losing yourself.
If you want to follow Princess’s full journey, subscribe to this newsletter. You’ll get weekly insights into Barren, behind-the-scenes reflections, and discussion prompts for your book clubs. And if you’re ready to read Princess’s complete story right now, Barren is available here:
Get your copy of Barren: – Amazon (also available on Kindle Unlimited) – Barnes & Noble
About the Margins of Genesis Series
Barren is Book One in the Margins of Genesis series. It’s contemporary fiction that reimagines the forgotten biblical characters from Genesis in modern American settings. These are raw, honest explorations of faith, survival, betrayal, and redemption. Because the people in the margins? They have stories worth telling too.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for walking this journey with Princess and with me. I’m grateful for every one of you.
Elizabeth Simon
Lizard Books LLC
Southwest Florida
P.S. If this email resonated with you, please share it with someone who’s living in liminal space right now. And comment below, because I read every single one.
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