“I’ll hold you in the light.”
That’s a Quaker phrase that I cherish. I often tell friends or acquaintances (yes, acquaintances) that I will hold them in the light. I really do love people and their stories, which must be obvious because I often come away from a food truck or the bank with a story of a father’s broken hip or the death of a teen-age son. I find scraps of paper with their names tucked in my wallet and in laundered pockets. I do hold them in the light--sometimes for years, without knowing the resolution. I’m grateful for each of the stories--I feel like each person or family entrusted me with a treasure. I feel like they can sense my own brokenness and we share that bond.
“I’ll hold you in the light.”
It communicates to the person, “I see your suffering. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but I will hold you with tenderness. I trust that God knows what you need.”
“I’ll hold you in the light.”
I love the imagery. It makes me think of turning my face to the sun and feeling the tension melt away. The lovely thing about this ‘holding in the light’ is that it doesn't require words--it can be done with anyone or any situation at any time.
Far more often than the times I actually say these words, or any words, to someone I just carry out the action in silence--with people I love, with the cashier who seems particularly slow, or the driver of the swanky car that cut me off in the carpool line. Sometimes I see a softening in the other person, sometimes I don’t, but I always feel my own heart beginning to soften and open and for this I am grateful.
“I’ll hold you in the light.”
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