i learned this past week that it takes seven days of shouting words of encouragement, direction, witty banter to lose my voice. i am loud. i am large. for seven days i was given an opportunity to hold space for participants of a large event sometimes only seconds at a time, up to twice a day. “if this isn’t ministry work i don’t know what is,” i messaged a friend who shares a similar calling.
debriefing the experience with a mentor earlier today she said something along the lines of “the more we share love and gratitude with others, the more we then embody it ourselves.” this was the validation i needed. i am exhausted. i am spent. i am addict – i want to do it again. holding space gets me high.
something that has become a common narrative for me over the past couple of months: when I have self-acceptance around being awkward & queer it creates a space where another can be more vulnerable & authentic. this takes some energy on my part but the return is often — not always! — of benefit to me1. i get to share the joy that said authenticity brings and i get to be a part of the good vibes. even tears are good vibes. there were lots of tears last week.
sometimes people just need a “good morning, sunshine.” at maximum volume at 7am. or perhaps a “welcome back to camp! you did it!” later in the early evening. my self-appointed job was to provide a small space (physical? emotional? metaphysical?) for the people to feel seen, loved, accepted.
- so selfish!
