The Blessing of Being Held
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Hi, I am Tameka and welcome to Grace Across Borders.
Introduction: A Hug That Spoke Without Words
This blog is late. I know! And believe me, it wasn’t for lack of trying.
I wrote about ten different versions of what I wanted to share. Each carried a message, and some were quite powerful. But every time I tried to settle on one, something didn’t feel right. It was almost as though the Holy Spirit was whispering, “Not yet.”
Perhaps those messages are for another day.
Then, while scrolling online this morning, I came across a video of a little girl hugging Princess Tiana at Disney. She wrapped her arms around the character and simply refused to let go. According to the caption, Disney characters follow a special hugging rule: they allow the guest to release the embrace first.
I haven’t independently confirmed whether this is an official Disney policy, but what touched me was watching Princess Tiana gently rock that little girl, holding her without appearing to be in any hurry to let go.
And then came an even more tender moment. Tiana lowered her head into the little girl’s hair while continuing to embrace her.
Watch the beautiful Disney moment that inspired this reflection on Facebook.
I smiled. My heart was full.
And I wondered, what if we all practiced that kind of patience with one another?
What if we allowed people the time they needed to feel loved, comforted, and safe? What if we weren’t always so quick to pull away?
I thought about the last few years of my own life and wondered what they would have looked like if my family and I hadn’t had one another. There have been moments when simply being held made the difference between keeping it together and falling apart.
And speaking of family, my parents are here for my mother’s annual birthday visit!
Tomorrow, October 16, my beautiful mother celebrates her 67th birthday. Every year, she chooses to spend this special occasion with us, despite the cold Illinois weather she doesn’t particularly care for. 😁
Happy 67th Birthday, Mom! ❤️
I’m grateful that God has blessed us with another year to celebrate you. I pray this new chapter brings you good health, peace, laughter, and countless reasons to smile. I hope every visit reminds you how deeply you are loved, appreciated, and cherished.
Sometimes I think these moments of simply relaxing, laughing, and being celebrated offer a little healing to the child within us all.
Welcome home, Mom!
And while we’re celebrating, I’m praying that next year we’ll be able to bring the family together for a cruise in honor of my parents’ 45th wedding anniversary. The ideas are flowing, and everyone seems to be in favor! Of course, it hasn’t escaped my attention that when my father’s birthday comes around, Jamaica is always on his mind.
But isn’t that part of the beauty of love? Making room for the things that bring one another joy.
Perhaps that’s why the little girl’s embrace touched me so deeply.
It reminded me that sometimes the greatest blessings aren’t wrapped in beautiful paper, placed in gift bags, or purchased with money.
Sometimes the blessing is simply having someone who is happy you’re there.
Someone who makes room for you.
Someone who holds you until you’re ready to let go.
Scripture: When There Is No One to Hold You
Ecclesiastes 4:1–12 (KJV)
The book of Ecclesiastes, traditionally associated with Solomon, offers an honest examination of life, its struggles, its pursuits, and the importance of human relationships.
In chapter 4, the Preacher begins with a heartbreaking observation:
Ecclesiastes 4:1
“So I returned, and considered all the oppressions that are done under the sun: and behold the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had no comforter; and on the side of their oppressors there was power; but they had no comforter.”
They had no comforter.
Twice, the writer emphasizes their suffering without comfort. In verses 2–3, he describes the severity of that oppression, while verses 4–6 examine the envy, labor, and restless striving that characterize much of human life.
Then he presents another troubling picture.
Ecclesiastes 4:7–8
“Then I returned, and I saw vanity under the sun.
There is one alone, and there is not a second; yea, he hath neither child nor brother: yet is there no end of all his labour; neither is his eye satisfied with riches; neither saith he, For whom do I labour, and bereave my soul of good? This is also vanity, yea, it is a sore travail.”
Here is someone who works endlessly and accumulates wealth, yet has nobody with whom to share it. The question, “For whom do I labour?” exposes the emptiness of striving without companionship.
Then the passage takes a beautiful turn.
Ecclesiastes 4:9–10
“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.
For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.”
Ecclesiastes 4:11–12
“Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?
And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.”
The writer moves from oppression and isolation to the practical blessings of companionship: someone to help when we fall, warmth when we are cold, and strength when we face opposition.
The chapter begins with people who have no comforter and leads us to appreciate the blessing of having someone beside us.
And that is what stayed with me.
What a difference it makes to have someone who is willing to stay when life becomes difficult.
Folklore: The Father and the Bundle of Sticks
There is an old folktale, often associated with Aesop, about a father whose children were constantly quarreling.
No matter how often he encouraged them to live peacefully, they found something to argue about. One wanted things done this way, another insisted on doing things differently, and before long, even the smallest disagreement became a battle.
One day, the father decided that words alone were not enough.
He gathered several sticks, tied them tightly into a bundle, and called his children together.
“Come here, all a unnu. Mi have something fi show unnu.”
He handed the bundle to one of his children and instructed him to break it.
The young man tried. He bent it, twisted it, and used all his strength, but the bundle would not break.
The father passed it to another child, and then another. Each tried, but none succeeded.
Finally, the father untied the bundle and handed each child a single stick.
“Now try again.”
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The sticks broke almost effortlessly.
The father looked at his children and explained that when they stood together, they were stronger. But when they allowed disagreements to separate them, they became vulnerable to things they might otherwise have endured.
The children finally understood.
There is strength in togetherness.
I’ve heard variations of this story over the years, but today it speaks to me differently.
What happens when one of those sticks becomes weak? What happens when life bends it so severely that it feels as though one more hardship will cause it to break?
Do we discard it because it can no longer carry the same weight? Do we criticize it for being weak? Or do we draw it closer and allow the strength of the others to help support it?
That is the beauty of being bound together in love.
We may not always be equally strong, but we can take turns being strong for one another.
Reflection: The Blessing of Being Held
I wonder what the last few years would have looked like for my family if we hadn’t had one another.
We have faced difficult seasons. Seasons that tested our patience, our faith, our strength, and sometimes even our ability to understand what the other person needed.
There were moments when I felt as though I was barely holding myself together.
It took my husband a while to understand that sometimes I didn’t need him to fix anything. I didn’t need advice, explanations, or another solution.
I just needed him to stand there and hold me.
And when he learned to do that, those embraces helped keep me from falling apart.
Not because our problems disappeared. Not because everything suddenly became easier. But because, for those few moments, I didn’t have to carry everything alone.
I have always loved giving.
Gifts, time, encouragement, a listening ear, whatever I can offer. If you need to talk and I have the time, I will make time for you. If I can help, I want to help.
I don’t give because I expect something in return. There is something deeply fulfilling about knowing that someone felt remembered because of a small gesture.
I love imagining someone opening a package, receiving a little token, or reading a message and realizing that somewhere, someone was thinking fondly of them.
Perhaps the gift itself isn’t significant to them. But the thought behind it means something to me.
It brings me joy.
Lately, however, life has looked different.
Financial obligations and debt have limited my ability to give as freely as I once did. And I won’t pretend that it doesn’t grieve me.
With Christmas approaching, it hurts to think that I may not be able to send even a small token to people I would ordinarily remember.
Not because anyone is demanding something from me. Not because my relationships depend on gifts. But because giving has always been one of the ways I express love.
I’ve been asking God to trust me with more money. Not simply because of what I need, but because of what I would love to do for others.
Yet this morning, as I watched that little girl being held, something began to settle in my spirit.
Perhaps I’ve been so focused on what I cannot afford to give that I’ve overlooked the value of what I still have.
My time.
My compassion.
My willingness to listen.
My ability to encourage someone who is struggling.
My arms to embrace someone who needs to be held.
I think about the videos we see online of people receiving houses, cars, or thousands of dollars. Those gifts can transform lives, and I thank God for the people who are in a position to give so generously.
But have you ever noticed what often happens afterward?
The recipient cries. They thank God. They struggle to find the words to express their gratitude.
And then they embrace the giver.
Sometimes they hug everyone standing nearby.
It’s almost as though the moment isn’t complete until that embrace happens.
The gift may have relieved a financial burden, but the hug expresses something beyond the monetary value.
You saw me. You thought about me. You cared.
And isn’t that what so many of us are longing to know?
In Acts 3:6, Peter told the man at the temple gate, “Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee.”
Peter was about to minister miraculous healing in the name of Jesus Christ. My circumstances are certainly different, but his words remind me that not having silver and gold does not mean having nothing to offer.
Sometimes we must stop measuring our ability to bless others by what is in our bank accounts.
And perhaps, just perhaps, I must learn that lesson for myself.
Yesterday was one of those days when people needed my time.
And I gave it, because that’s what I do.
But somewhere along the way, I had to remind myself of something.
I am worthy of that same time.
The person who reaches out to check on everybody else deserves to be checked on, too.
The person who makes room for another person’s burdens deserves a safe place to lay down her own.
The person who is always willing to listen deserves to be heard.
And the person who is accustomed to holding everyone else together sometimes needs somebody to hold her.
I wonder how many of us struggle with that.
We have become so comfortable being the strong one, the dependable one, the giver, the person everyone calls when something goes wrong, that we forget we are human, too.
We need encouragement.
We need companionship.
We need rest.
And yes, sometimes we need a hug that lasts longer than a few seconds.
Not every person is comfortable with physical affection, and love also means respecting those boundaries. But whether comfort comes through an embrace, a phone call, a quiet visit, or simply sitting beside someone, the principle remains the same.
Don’t be so quick to withdraw your presence when someone still needs it.
And don’t become so accustomed to giving that you forget how to receive.
And wouldn’t you know it? Just as I was getting ready to review and record this reflection, life handed me another reminder.
I decided to take all my pills at once instead of taking them a few at a time, as I usually do. Well, that was a terrible decision! They got stuck in my throat, and for a frightening moment, I genuinely thought I was going to die. There was coughing, vomiting, tears, and panic. David came running to help.
Afterward, as I gathered myself, I couldn’t help but think about the very message I had just written.
Here I was, reflecting on the blessing of having someone beside us, and once again, I was reminded how grateful I am that I wasn’t alone.
Sometimes we don’t realize just how precious someone’s presence is until the moment we desperately need it.
Ecclesiastes 4:10 reminds us, “For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow.”
Today, I was reminded of that truth in a way I certainly hadn’t planned!
And now, I keep returning to that little girl.
She held on, and Princess Tiana continued holding her.
There was no grand speech. No expensive gift. No extraordinary act that required a large bank account.
Just an embrace.
And somehow, that simple moment reminded me of what I’ve been trying to express through ten different drafts.
We are living among people who are hurting.
People who have built walls because they’ve been disappointed too many times.
People who have learned to let go first because they’re afraid someone else will.
People who give and give until they’re exhausted, yet struggle to believe they’re worthy of receiving the same love.
People who don’t necessarily need us to fix their circumstances. They just need to know they haven’t been forgotten.
What if we became more intentional about offering that reassurance?
What if we called someone without needing anything?
What if we listened without watching the clock?
What if we noticed when the person who is always smiling seemed unusually quiet?
What if we embraced someone, when welcomed, and allowed them to decide when they were ready to let go?
Imagine the comfort we could bring.
Imagine the walls that might begin to come down.
Imagine how many people might find the courage to face another day simply because someone reminded them that they mattered.
I don’t believe every wound can be healed with a hug. Some wounds require time, professional care, protection, accountability, and much more than any one person can offer.
But I do believe compassion can make a difference.
And I believe God can use ordinary people and ordinary moments to communicate extraordinary love.
Perhaps the blessing we’ve been praying to give someone isn’t always financial.
Perhaps it is already resting in our hands, waiting to be extended.
Perhaps it is in our willingness to stay.
And perhaps the lesson for those of us who are always giving is that we, too, are deserving of that same love.
Sometimes the blessing isn’t just in being held. It’s in discovering that the person holding you wants to hold you, too.
Don’t just be the person who holds others until they’re ready to let go. Allow yourself to be held, too.
Because sometimes the person who needs that embrace the most is the one who has spent a lifetime giving them away.
Prayer
Heavenly Father,
Lord, thank You for being present in our lives. Thank You for giving us the grace to heal when we need healing and the opportunity to grow when growth is needed.
Thank You for the people You have placed in our lives who stand beside us, support us, and remind us that we are loved. Help us never to take their presence for granted, and teach us to extend that same love and compassion to others.
For those who are lonely, hurting, or longing for companionship, especially those who are single and seeking someone to share their lives with, I pray that You will provide according to Your will, in whatever way You see fit.
Lord, help us to recognize the blessings already surrounding us, even as we wait for the things we have prayed for.
Have Your way, Lord.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
A Final Thought
The next time someone reaches for you, don’t assume you know what they’ve been carrying.
And the next time someone asks how you’re doing, remember that you don’t always have to say, “I’m fine.”
Sometimes healing begins when we make room for one another.
Hold with love. Release with understanding. And never underestimate the blessing of simply being there.
Grace Across Borders — Where Faith, Life, and Grace Meet.
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