Liz's Lesson Learned: EMBRACETHESPACE©

Do you need space to read this? thisideaofspaceisverythoughtprovokingwedonotknowitbutweleanheavilyonthespacesthatmakeupourveryexistencewherewouldwebeifwedidnothavethespacesoftimeandplacewhatwouldwebeifwewerenotabletodiscernthespacesIdonotthinkweconsiderthespacesuntiltheyaregoneyouknowonedaythethingthatseparatesnoiseandclutterfromourspaciousrealitiesbecomelessdiscernbilewhatdowedowhenourspacesaregone

The spaces have become more apparent in my life.  Good space, bad space, they make themselves known. The last time I took a step, misjudged the space, and fell on the ground, I knew my thinking would have to change.  Sometimes, I get up too fast, misjudge the space around me, and feel my head reel until the space around me steadies itself.  (Or maybe it is me steadying myself.)  Space used to mean a grand jèté through the air, landing into a double pirouette and lunge. 

At 64, space means carefully measuring my dance steps so that the space in my brain concentrates and synchronizes with the movement of my feet and body.  I pay attention now as I try to close the space in my mind and concentrate on remembering how to spell synchronize. 

I actually have to close space in my mind and pull awareness back to a place where I knew how to spell the word “synchronize.”  It only takes a second or two, but I am more aware of my spelling process, whereas spelling was subconsciously effortless just a year ago.  I did not have to say ‘i’ before ‘e’ except after ‘c’.  I would just spell “their”.

Now, I sit, and I stare into space. Everywhere I look, there is space.  In my living room, there is space between the couch and the plant, and between the plant and the windowsill.  No matter how close I hold my fingers together, there is still space. 

Sometimes, when I have a headache, it feels as if the space in my mind needs to be filled in so there is no room for the stars of pain that stick in my head. Also, no matter the scenario, rhyme or reason, I will take up the same amount of space whether I am at home, at work, at church, asleep, or at play.  Not only for me but for you and everyone else, you occupy the same amount of space.  Each of us is assigned an amount of space. Height, width, and depth… We each have an amount that is germane to us.  That’s it, and there’s nothing to be done about it. 

Talk about a hot mess!  That is where I wound up on this journey to disclose something meaningful about space.  Yes. A hot mess.  When I am trying to write and the words will not come, I feel like I am the mess.  When I have to sing, and the notes don’t make sense, I become a hot mess. Teaching a lesson and the message seems jumbled – yes, a mess of space.

Right at this very moment, as I am trying to pen an example, the spaces in my memory are preventing me from pulling the entire picture together.  I am trying to think of a song I was supposed to sing for a baby dedication at my church.  This was maybe 20 years ago.  I had been asked to sing a song.  Here I sit trying to remember that song.  For the life of me I cannot remember the title.  “He Touched Me”.  No, that is not it.  My Tribute?  No.  Now I am rubbing my temple, trying to remember.   The space in time is now really presenting a problem.  The song had one note that gave me a fit because it was a dissonant note that really made it shine.

Fifteen minutes passed, and I still had yet to come up with the name of that song.  I ran down the list of solos I had done throughout my life.  And then the song came to me: “My Heavenly Father Watches Over Me.”  I began to run the lyrics through my mind.  And, then it hit me.  That’s not the song.  The song has lyrics about a newborn baby!  You see, I am in the midst of my big fat mess.  My mind is failing me. I’m running out of time. 

This is a mess!!!

But if I just hang in there, I’m sure it will come.  Yes, my mind may be a little slow, and I may take longer to fill in the spaces, but if I just let time and space run their course, they will come to a place where they can join in harmony.  It will indeed all gel together. I will get there. 

So, my mind began to turn.  How sweet to see a newborn baby?  Hear a newborn baby?  Something about a newborn baby.  Then I finally got it!! How sweet to hold a newborn baby, And feel the pride and joy he gives…  The song I was asked to sing was “Because He Lives.”

All those years ago. I remember practicing that song over and over again.  Each time I came to that one note, I would miss it and have to pause, look at it, and play it on the piano; I would sing again and still miss the mark.  A big fat mess, and then it was the Saturday before the Sunday I was to sing.  In verse 1, the word was forgive.  Verse 2 gives, and verse 3 pain.  Three words caused a big mess in my brain.  Even then, the space was pregnant with uncertainty.  So, I paused and filled the space in time with my silent, urgent prayer for help.

Sunday arrived, and I was still a hot mess. They called my name to come forward and sing the song.  My heart was beating in my chest, and I felt I would surely pause at the same point, just as I had done so many times in rehearsal. I could not get past that one note.

I said one final prayer as I inhaled into singing that first note.  “Please remove me and take over my voice.  Help me minister, and please help make my voice pleasing in your sight.  It is in your name, I pray.”

There could be only one reason why it all clicked.  He had answered my prayer.  I was able to sing that song and hit that dissonant note each time and hit it with precision.  Each time there was a space for a breath, I said a silent prayer of thanks.  As I sang the last note, I felt my head rise so I could look towards heaven and silently thank God for seeing me through.  What could have been a mess turned out to be done to the glory of God.

Sometimes the space we fill seems messy, and it causes us to feel out of sorts.  But if we hang in there, it all comes together.  All those years ago, I needed a note.  In the middle of writing this very piece, I discovered I needed the name of a song.  I am thankful that I still have space on this earth.  It’s okay that sometimes, my spaces in memory are wide and seem harder to fill with treasured information.  It’s all a part of being a part of this space we call life. 

What do we do when our spaces are gone?  Realize they are never really gone. They sometimes seem to blur together.  They seem to make big, fat messes. And yes, we have to take a little more time, be patient with ourselves, and just tell ourselves that we have lived a mighty long time. We deserve a moment to adjust to the right amount of space to keep our world flowing smoothly.  Living in our space will allow us to create more memories for many years to come.

Embrace your space!!