Learning to hold our lives with grace
I love the idea of holding my life. Treasuring it. Holding it gently to my chest and smelling the fresh scent of its crown. Hmm. Warmth, togetherness. I can see in myself the attachment figure I need for my life, holding me. Not too tight, just right. Rhythmically rocking when I need it, singing a melodic mantra, whispering what I need: you are loved, held, guided, and never alone.
I hold my hand as I grow older. Skipping together down the path. Running after a ball, then throwing it back and forth, back and forth. Laughing for days. Giggling at each other. Delighting in each other.
I marvel as I see you flitting about in orbit near me. Holding your own space, singing with your own strong voice. I am here to hold, but as the moon holds the tides. I hold with space. I hold with awe and pride and love.
I hold your tears, as you feel your first heartbreak. And you allow yourself to feel it. Because you don’t have to be strong for yourself. I am here and I am strong for you. You can cry and let it out. Then you can shout at the injustice, and stand up for yourself. I am proud of your anger and your fierceness. Let it come out. You don’t have to hold it in for fear of hurting my feelings. Then, I teach you how to resolve the conflict and send you off with a courageous heart to resolve and repair the breach. You return with sad tidings, but with pride for how you handled it. We cry together. And it is enough.
If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear about it…