Space & Grace: An Explainer
I grew up in a small town in western Kansas. Let me explain to you exactly what that meant. We had a population of 1000 people. The traffic light at the Main Street square was replaced with a four-way stop because there wasn’t any traffic. Each summer, we would host the County Fair, which included 25 cent games and rides, and a parade “downtown” for farmers to showcase their newest farm equipment. Friday and Saturday nights were spent “cruising Main”, which consisted of making a U-turn in the north, east, south, and west corners of the downtown: the corner by Dart-In, the corner by the railroad tracks, the corner by the Baptist church, and the corner by the Catholic church. Gathering in a group meant congregating at “the tree” or “the bridge”, and everyone knew where to go. We joked that if you sneezed, someone across town would say “bless you”. It was both comforting and stifling for people to know who you were and what you were up to.
What I was too young to appreciate, and most certainly took for granted, was the amount of space that small town afforded. Not just physical space, which is nice in and of itself. But mental space in the quietness and calmness of the surroundings. As I mentioned earlier, there was no traffic, and so, apart from the occasional trucker using his jake break, the sounds of cars speeding down the street was non-existent. A busy downtown meant there were more than 5 cars parked in front of the stores, which, by the way, included a pharmacy, grocery store, hardware store and flower shop. At night, you could step outside and hear coyotes howling in the distance or the train rumbling down the tracks. And you could see the black sky filled with twinkling stars. It’s what I miss the most.
Fast forward a few decades, and we’re in the midst of a pandemic. We’re forced into our spaces with our people and very little quiet. Many are working at home, kids are learning from home, and a great number are juggling working their jobs and teaching their kids. It’s why therapists schedules are booked out for months.
When we were faced with choosing how our kids would continue their educational careers, we made the decision to keep them at home. This meant that I would continue being the teacher (listen, it’s one thing to teach your kids to share and use kind words; it’s something different to teach 4th grade math), my husband would continue working from home, and our space would continue to feel more stifling than comforting, day in and day out.
It was during one of my many emotional breakdowns that the idea of “space & grace” came to me. Not this blog exactly, but the phrase: space & grace. It was exactly what I – what we all – were longing for. Our space was becoming smaller and smaller, and we had reached the point where the slightest imperfection resulted in a screaming, stomping down the hallway, and slamming the door kind of war. It just wasn’t sustainable. So, I called a family meeting, looked in the eyes of my adoring fans, and said “we need to give each other space and grace”. After I gave myself a most deserving pat on the back for not only creating such a remarkable phrase, but one that also rhymed, we discussed what each of us needed to feel seen and heard. Things like knocking on a closed door, going to another room when tensions feel high, going outside or for a drive, giving mom her much deserved “happy hour” each day which consists of laying down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. You get the picture. It didn’t take off right away. In fact, there are days when I wonder if anyone really heard me (I often feel like Charlie Brown’s teacher). But on the days we get it right, on the days that we are our best selves and we are aware of our physical and mental proximity to one another, the comfort of that stifling environment returns. And all is well. At least until tomorrow.
