Holding Space

https://youtu.be/eucAdWW-4HM

H   O   L   D   I   N   G          S   P   A   C   E

I’ve been doing Hospice since Halloween 1994;

I didn’t know it on October 31, 1994 on my very first Monday at working there.

Actually I was scared to death

(NO    PUN    INTENDED)

I had just turned in my resignation at Westlake Christian Church two weeks prior to starting at Hospice and I had no idea what I decision,

what   Life Path   I had just entered.

Instead of thinking about T H A T, 

I was petrified that I had taken about a 40% cut in pay to take this job with five kids and a wife who’s paid nothing to pricelessly make sure everything ran smoothly on a budget that would have a homeless man poorer. . . .

I was worried.      .      .

and ohhhhhh how I was so even more

u  n  k  n  o  w  i  n  g

It didn’t take me many Monday’s in Hospice to figure out what it took to

H  o  l  d       S  p  a  c  e

It’s not just providing that beautiful thing we call

P    R    E    S    E    N    C    E

Holding Space  is something so very much more than that.

It’s shutting out the world,

shutting out all of the stories,

both your anthologies as well as the Compendium

of all or any  ONE  particular patient.

It’s sacred space.      .      .very, very consecrated.

h   o   l   y.

The film clip above is long by our very bored,

show-me-something-right-now-or-I’ll-stop-watching-standards.

Watch it.      .      .

It  IS LONG  and it’s difficult to watch with the spanish and not so correct captions.      .      .

but watch it.      .      .

stop right now and watch it over again

and know just by showing up,

just by being there in  that held space  there is nothing

no         t h i n g

you’ll find anymore sacral.       .       .

no            t h i n g.

He asked to see me a few weeks ago

I had only met him once before when he was at an inpatient facility.

He asked his wife to call me and set an appointment.

He was weak and lethargic and could barely stay away during our visit.

 I asked if it would be alright if I would stop by again the following week.

He said he would like that.

 His wife asked if he wanted to talk about anything else before I left.

He shook his head no.

She said, “But wonder if when Chuck comes back you can’t talk?”

He opened his eyes and looked into mine.

It was seconds.       .       .

a moment.          .          .special.

He reached out for my hand and I held his in both of mine.

“Then, ” I said.      .      .

“Then we’ll have a conversation just like this,”

I told him squeezing his hand between the two of   mine.

He shook his head slowly,

UP and Down in a gesture of  Y E S.

He didn’t know,

but IN THAT MOMENT OF HELD SPACE,

I made him feel what I’ve come to know countless times over since October 31, 1994:

The best conversations are the ones that usually use NO WORDS; 

.    .    .that convey what a heart shouts and a mouth can’t begin to whisper.   .   .   .

we held space.

I called to set up another visit with him and hadn’t gotten the message that he had died just the night before.

We–his wife and I–

spoke about what a special visit it had been just a few days before

and how he had died in peace, comfortably with his mother, wife and some very close bedside him.      .      .

h  o  l  d  i  n  g       s  p  a  c  e

That we all might hold space.       .       .

That we all might have space held for us

one   sanctified   moment