I  was thinking this morning of a story once shared to me.

I’d been having a difficult go of things, reaching a point of ‘my whole world tumbling inward.’

Have you ever noticed just how easily thoughts scale in proportion to our inner narrative? When something as small as a bonk to the head can suddenly become so overwhelmingly BIG?

In an instant, we are triggered – caught in that desperate struggle between holding on and letting go.

We fear the heaviness of failure. Our upbringing guides us away from that which might be perceived as weakness. Though, time and time again we’re shown that sometimes ‘breaking down’ is the only way the heart may finally let go.

I’d been trying to come home for a visit; scraping together what little money I could to afford the long plane ride home. But, life as it seems had other plans – as a storm raged far off into the distance.

With every thunder clap, my heart sank a bit – knowing, that I’d be stuck right here inside this awful airport terminal. At least until the storms had safely passed.

Meanwhile, everyone else would be at home.

It was that proverbial last straw. And, oh my goodness – how I wept. As if anything that had ever gone wrong before, was directly the fault of this storm.

“It’s ok to cry,” he said to me. The years had worn their patterns in deep grooves upon his face; and by the looks of things, this gentle soul had smiled through each and every bit of it.

He told me a story, “That time in Normandy” he said, as his voice trailed off into reflection.

His unit had been tasked to take the beach, a strategic turning point during WWII.

The water was strewn with the bodies of those who had arrived just moments before him, “Good men,” he offered with tears in his eyes “just babies, some of them.”

As the landing crafted jetted over the waves, he felt a fear rising in his chest, as the tightness gripped. It was then that he realized – he didn’t know how to swim.

Overwhelmed, he broke down. To the back of the craft, and off to the left, he saw his sergeant with furrowed brow peering down at him. “That’s it, I’m done.” he thought – and for a moment, he believed.

He assumed he would be criticized for his weakness, though – instead the sergeant leaned forward to say,

“Let it out now, soldier. Carry only what you need.”

In that moment, he said, he finally let it all go – making room for that which was so desperately needed.

Faith and hope.

And though, I’m sure there were a million other factors at hand – he claimed this to be the only reason he made it through.

“I realized my hearts was only so big,” he smiled. “And fear was taking up far too much room.”

Last night, was one of those bigger moments for me – as the physical pain from this disease left room enough for doubt to nudge its way in.

But I remembered this kind soul’s words, and because of him – I it through.

As we move through this life, it may be tempting to hold onto all those bits and pieces that do not serve us well. Though, in doing so – we lose such precious space, and the energy of that which is so needed most of all.

So, let it all go, my darlings. Carry only what is needed. Make room for faith and hope.

Whether for the kindness of strangers, or the love of one humbled heart so many miles away – know that you are not ever alone.

And, no matter what social etiquette might try to define – know this: it’s okay to fuss, and, it’s okay to cry.

My darlings, yesterday was a physically challenging day, it’s true. But, because of you – I made it through.

And, I’m so awfully glad I ‘made room.’

Namaste.