Hold the Door
This week I celebrate all those people who I remember vividly and those who I don’t recall who made space for me on my journey. Those who challenged me, those who tolerated me, those who loved me, and those who detested what I said and how I presented myself all held the door for me.
My grandmother, Gertrude Edith Lavender Holmlund, changed me. The transformation, unfortunately, didn’t happen in her presence, and the impact was recognized and amplified long after she passed away. Nevertheless, her willingness to spend time with me, in silence and ridiculousness, provided a model for my role as a grandfather. The memories I have of her help me each day to make decisions that shade practicality, uncertainty, passion, and logic, especially when I turn out to be correct. Even when I am astoundingly wrong, I hear her voice urging me to step up and try again. I almost always choose to go through the door she holds open.
I worked for and with remarkable people over my life. Some guided me explicitly, some waited for me to ‘get it, and one propped open the entrance to learning when I failed miserably, and she said, “ that’s what happened when I tried to make that happen a few years ago.”
For decades, nearly anonymous supporters have stepped up and donated their money to causes, and wild ideas germinating in my mind, nurtured by teammates, and blossomed in unexpected ways. The beauty and aroma of the creations changed me, encouraged confidence, and unlocked portals for others, without my privilege, to try a different journey on a new path. Gratitude doesn’t seem to be a big enough word to express how that realization moves my heart.
Forty-seven years ago, I was stumbling along. There wasn’t a destination, certainly no plan, and too much idleness left space for traps and vices to take hold. Then, failing and falling again, I ended up in the arms of my beloved. She has wandered, worried, watched, and wished with me. I have been strengthened by her belief, chastened by her purposefulness, encouraged by her willingness, and supported through trials. The door to love is held open daily, and we pass through together.
I am surrounded by young people, grandchildren, youth, and a small team who inspire me to crossover the threshold beside them, behind them, and occasionally in front. They are willing to dare and encourage me to take new risks in a less certain and less sustainable world than even three years ago.
If we are going to survive, we need to look for new ways to hold the door for each other and celebrate when the door is kept open for us, with an appreciation of the effort and thoughtfulness.
B
