Between Lent and Easter: The Quiet Work of the In-Between
There is a particular feeling to this part of the season.
Lent is not quite finished, yet Easter is beginning to peek around the corner. Here in the northern states, especially outside our Wisconsin studio, spring behaves in much the same way. The ground softens, but the trees are still bare. The air hints at warmth, but winter hasn’t entirely released its grip.
We live in the between.
The church calendar is remarkably honest about these in-between places. Lent does not rush us toward celebration. Instead, it slows us down long enough to notice what still needs tending, in our lives, in our communities, and in our hearts.
But even as Lent asks us to reflect, the promise of Easter quietly gathers in the background.
You can see it in the lengthening light at the end of the day.
You can see it in the first shoots pushing through cold soil.
You can feel it in the anticipation that something is about to change.
Artists Know This Season Well
Artists and makers understand this rhythm instinctively. Much of creative work happens in these middle places after the idea first arrives but before the finished piece is ready to be revealed.
There is planning.
There is revising.
There is experimenting and sometimes undoing.
It’s not the most visible part of the process, but it is where the real shaping happens.
In the studio, there are often moments when a piece feels unfinished or uncertain. The colors aren’t quite right yet. The composition still needs balance. But those in-between stages are not wasted time. They are the place where attention deepens, and meaning takes form.
The Church’s Visual Language
In many ways, the work we do at Carrot Top Studio lives within this same rhythm.
The liturgical seasons give the church a visual language for what it is experiencing together in colors, symbols, and textures that help us see what might otherwise remain abstract. Purple invites reflection. Bare spaces encourage quiet. Simple symbols draw our attention to the story unfolding before us.
These visual cues don’t rush the congregation forward. Instead, they help us inhabit the season we are in.
And right now, the church is standing in that quiet place of preparation.
Not quite ashes.
Not yet alleluias.
Just the steady work of paying attention.
The Invitation of the In-Between
Perhaps that is the invitation for these days.
Not to hurry toward Easter, but to notice what is already beginning to stir.
A new idea is forming quietly.
A relationship beginning to mend.
A hope returning after a long winter.
Resurrection rarely arrives all at once. More often, it begins in these small, almost hidden moments of renewal.
So if this season feels unfinished, that may simply mean you are exactly where you need to be, living in the fertile, hopeful space between Lent and Easter.
And in that quiet middle ground, something beautiful is already beginning to grow.
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