Hold Everything With Open Hands

I categorized this blog into the ‘grief’ column. I will be writing several posts on the subject, as I have felt the acute sting of several sides of grief, and I have a lot to say on the subject. Each layer is painful, deeply felt, and each worthy of their own blog post, so I will be taking my time unpacking this topic. Please note that this is my personal experience–I do not speak for others and do not wish to make any 'blanket statements' on the topic, as it is a very personal and individual emotion. The layers of my grief have been created by several different areas of loss that I have gone through. Grief is felt and experienced in numerous ways and presents itself differently depending on the person and their loss. I have personally witnessed and gone through grief in so many forms that in order for me to talk about it, I have to peel away the layers and unpack them one at a time. This post simply attempts to unpack one of them.

“Hold everything in your hands lightly, otherwise it hurts when God pries your fingers open.” -Corrie Ten Boom.

Ms. Ten Boom knew what she was talking about, and my goodness, do I know what she means. ‘Hold everything with open hands’. This advice, comes from the heart of people who know the intense pain of losing the things you thought you had control of, and they are quite literally ‘ripped’ from your hands. I used to say this phrase very often. It’s direct, and makes sense. Hold the things you love with your hands open, palms up, so that one day when they go away, your fingers will still be intact. You were prepared. You gave it over freely. Here’s where the phrase, ‘easier said than done’ comes into play: no matter how many times I have said it, I promise you, I have gripped the things I’ve attached my heart to with all the force I could muster. I'm talking, white-knuckled-gripping. This lesson was taught to me so early on in China, and I have failed to learn it to this day.

The balance between ‘becoming too attached’ and ‘openly giving your heart over’ is such a fine line that it barely exists at all. Before I continue to what I’ve learned on the matter thus far, here is a list of things I have ‘Held With Clenched Fists’:

• My control, my routines, my friends, my job, my house, restaurants (RIP choods. China fam, you know…), my material things, my health, my schedule, my community, my freedom, my ideals, my purpose, travel plans, traditions, holidays, hobbies, the babies, the babies, the babies.

I have lost all of the above (in different ways) several times, and yet I continue to hold it all as tightly as I can. Change or loss of any kind brings me anxiety, doubt, and devastating sadness. I have personally gone through many seasons of anger and bitterness due to big changes I wasn't prepared for.

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“What if you waited your entire life to find purpose? To find something to fight for and to live for? Then you find it…

So, you give it everything you have. You give yourself and everything you are to it. You make sacrifices; friends, family, relationships–they get disconnected. Lost. You give up conveniences and comforts. Your time, energy, breath, heart, mind and body become all-consumed. It inhabits your entire soul. You chose this. You searched for it, desired it, and gave it all over freely and without question.

So what happens if it all goes away? If in one day it all comes crashing down and you have no time to react, prepare, or understand?

You realize in a moment that you forgot an instrumental key component to handling this type of loss: You forgot to protect any part of yourself. You realize when they told you to ‘hold everything with open hands’, you nodded your head but gripped tighter. With all the strength you could muster, you actually thought you were strong enough. That nothing could tear your fingers apart. It became your identity. Your worth. How could you not see what was happening? You ignored the warnings, the red flags, the signs. You pushed through one hard thing after another and it made you feel invincible. You had knuckles of steal, the heart of a lion, and anything that came in your way would bounce off your chest, over your shoulders, and you’d barely notice it happening at all. You. Were. Wrong.

So what now? What do you do when you have put your entire being into something that should have been held with open hands? Your identity, your worth, your soul–it has all been poured into things on this earth that are temporary, that can be taken form you in an instant. Now that it has, where do you go from here? What are you without it?

I stare at the wall trying to grasp at an image to relate myself to. Something tangible that I can say, “this is what it feels like to be in my shoes”, but I draw a blank. Am I like a leaf, blown into a river, unable to control which direction it goes? That seems too peaceful. Am I like a boulder, just fallen from an eroding cliff, tumbling towards the ground? That seems too strong. No, I’m just a girl, flailing through the air and dropped onto her back. Laying on the ground listless and unmoving, catching her breath. Her fingers sore from being ripped open, her hands feel too light. Empty. To anyone walking by, she looks to be resting peacefully–smiling and sure to herself. She stares at the wall, staying completely still, in attempts to keep the pieces inside her from crumbling to the floor.”

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I’m sure you’ve realized that the above text is directed at myself. It’s actually an excerpt from an old journal entry from one of the times I experienced the acute pain of what it feels like to lose something you’ve been holding onto with all your might. But, what if it's okay to hold it all tightly? Maybe we are strong enough to do both; grip onto the things we hold most dear, and know in our hearts that it may be taken from our grasp someday? When it does, it will hurt...but wasn’t it worth it? For me, I haven’t regretted one single thing I was given with open palms, promptly white knuckled, only to have to give it up later. What I do wish I had learned, is that the things I held onto are not where I should have placed my identity and worth. Because those things are woven in me and not to be parted from. My identity is who I am, who I was created to be, and who I continue to grow into. I cannot put my worth into something that I know will be taken from me. All that leads to is feeling lost and like a failure. “If I don’t have, ____, I am nothing.” This is a lie. And something I wish I could go back and tell myself as I stared at that wall in utter nothingness.

So hold on we must, to loved ones, to passions and purpose. Hold tight with full knowledge and acceptance that in the end, they do not belong to us. But what an incredible gift it is to behold them even just for a moment in time. To be handed over something so precious that you grip it with all your might, just to soak up and remember every fleeting moment. Then, when you feel that gut wrenching sting when it’s taken away, you know in your heart that it means you cared. It means you had something so worthwhile that you gave it everything you had right up until the last moments of it being torn away.

I have been given wonderful gifts, moments, and people that I eventually had to give back. When I did, I stood with my arms stretched out in front of me holding on until the last edges of them slid across my sore and outstretched fingertips. I’ve sat on the floor mourning what’s lost in the emptiness of my hands–but I still chose to get back up, open my palms, and wait for them to be filled again. And I will continue to do so, because I know I am strong enough to grip them tightly, and release them bravely. I believe we are capable of both holding on and letting go. It could be a beautiful balance if you let it happen.

Knowing when to let something be peeled from your grip, is just as important as being willing to hold onto it in the first place. Refusing to let go at the end of your time can be damaging to both you and what you are refusing to release. For it is brave to hold on, and braver to know when to let go

It’s necessary to mention being afraid to open your palms at all. To be afraid of holding onto anything in fear of it being taken away from you. I will cover this more in a later blog targeting the heart and how we build walls around it. (I have personal and raw experiences with this I’m wanting to share). For now, I will end with this: Hold your arms out in front of you, palms face­-up in anticipation for what will be placed in your keeping–I promise it’s worth the risk of your fingers.

She was never quite ready, but she was brave