Weary

I hold space for people.

What does this mean exactly? 

I sit with those I love (and sometimes those I just meet) and let them openly and honestly express how they feel with little to no judgment. It’s a gift that I’ve always had inside me. Over the last 10 years I’ve worked really hard on being intentional with this gift for myself, and also my family. It is an honor and a privilege to provide this service to others, and it fills me with great joy to sit with them in their most vulnerable times. 

Over the past several months I’ve been working overtime in my all male home. I love each boy with my entire heart, and all three are walking a very different path. They are navigating life from their unique perspectives – which includes both nature and nurture. It falls on me, the WOMAN in their life, to hold their hearts and provide the safety and space to piece together the complex process of living a human existence. In holding space for each one, they are able to lift some of the veils they are hiding or stuck under. Slowly and steadily, at their own pace. 

After months of being in the rocky space of holding their fragile, boisterous, and expanding adolescent hearts, I became the cup that overfloweth. When a dear friend asked me the simple question of “How are you?” a tear was set loose. And the floodgates opened. I fell to the bathroom floor and sobbed for their hearts and my own for doing this simple yet complex work. 

This is the vision I had while sitting in the puddle of my hard earned grief: 

The Weary Traveler

“We’ve been waiting for you, my child”, was what I heard upon my arrival. Tears streamed down my face. Each drop acknowledged the burdens that were stuck to my soul, unable to hide in the shadows any longer. One by one, I was letting go of the pains that were mine, and also from the women and mothers that came before me. 

After many moments of weeping in despair, my hosts patiently allowing it to unfold,  I mumbled, “I’m ready”. 

As I stood unhinged at the top of the mountain, my Surrendering Ceremony began:  

I began to undress the armor I had placed upon my body for decades in an effort to protect me.

I gave the moon my armor of chain mail and my breast plate. She returned to me a necklace made of silver and bloodstone.  

I gave the sun my pauldrons, rerebrace, couter, vambrace, and gauntlets. He returned to me a bouquet of Jasmine, Evening Primrose, Snapdragon, and Calendula. 

I gave the earth my sabatons. She returned to me a soft pair of moccasins. 

I gave the air my helmet. He offered me the ability to awaken. 

I gave the water my nakedness. She returned me to my wholeness. 

You belong, they whispered. 

You are whole, my child.

You are enough, just as you are. 

I bathed in each essence until I felt them settle into every cell of my being. 

And with a lightness I have not felt in awhile, I began my quiet descent down the mountain. 

I stored the memories in my heart to remind me of all I have endured. It’s the nudge I need to be gentle with others.  

I held the gifts given to me to remind me of my innate resilience. I offer them openly and honestly to everyone I come across. . 

And I carry on. 

This is the story of how I experience God’s presence:

In the cool and calm wisdom of the moon

In the warm love and devotion of the sun

In the life that air breathes into us

In the firm strength and steadiness of the earth

And in the healing flow of water. 

Amen.

~molly holsen; a holder of space and hearts

And now I must rest. And clean my bathroom floor.