I remember safety when my small hand was held by my momma and daddy. I remember the squeeze of the hand next to me at the table, after singing, “Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze! We love you, Amen.” I remember “practicing” the fingers interlaced hand hold with my elementary school girl friends, as we dreamed of what boy we’d hold hands with first. I remember the tiny, tiny hand of my boys when they were first born and the transition to my hand being smaller than theirs. The tight grip of playing Red Rover on the playground. The soft, frail hand of my little Gram, as she laid in a hospital bed and I prayed with her just days before she’d transition from earth to heaven and the way my hands have been held in times of deep sorrow and pleading.
I was recently asked what I “did” for work. I shared with them my number one job is to create and hold space and it’s from this space I guide. In one on one coaching, I lead people as the press internally, I aid in crafting a plan through and forward to balanced free living. With yoga I offer the space to move, breathe and pause. I create an experience and/or practice, specific to the needs and wishes of the group I am serving when hired for workshops and private events. When I was finished sharing, the person who’d asked said:
“You are a hand holder.”
I am. I always have been.
Holding the hand of another is an offering.
Holding the hand of another is intimate.
Who holds your hand? Metaphorically? Physically? We all need both. There are many types of hands we have, will and need to hold. And like our being held, we will hold others. Take a few minutes and remember the hands you’ve held. If it’s been awhile or you need to, reach out. Be willing. Be open. Be honest with yourself and those near. Friends, it’s in this extension change can happen.
Always know, mine is here if you need. xx,
After note: I had the opportunity last weekend to visit my grandparents, where I took the photograph above of their hands. It captures age and grace, intimacy and offering, service and commitment, love, loss, partnership, support. They started holding hands in high school, a junior girl and a senior boy. They wed at age nineteen, reared 4 sons, traveled the world in retirement and at 91 and 92, currently living unassisted in the town where the story began. This = Hand holding goals.