Come In, Sit Down

“Come in, sit down.”

My grandmother would say this to me every time I came to visit her. In those moments, it wasn't a big deal. I showed up, she told me to sit down. She had a very small bedroom and after she was done with her morning chores, she would go in there, put her feet up, lean against the chair cushion against the headboard, and turn her TV on to the Travel Channel or Food Network. The TV sat on top of the dresser crammed into the corner of her bedroom. This bed was her safe space and peaceful haven. On one side of it, there were usually piles of magazines and her remote control. On the other, her cordless phone, ashtray, and purse. At the foot of the bed, however; was only a folded blanket. That spot? That was the only place available for one other person to sit. And she offered it to me…

Every. Single. Time.

The fact that she felt comfortable and safe with me to offer me a spot in her safe zone spoke measures. I didn’t know it at the time though. It just seemed mundane and sometimes I even got annoyed that she wouldn’t come into the living room where there was more space. Sometimes, if we were talking about something deeply personal, she would ask me to shut the door. Funny, though, sometimes, no one was even there. But, that’s how sacred she held this exchange. Reflecting on this now, it’s very “therapy” sounding. But, truly, it was therapy. She was offering her time and listened to what was going on in my life. As I spoke, she would give a cursory nod or make the okay sign with her index finger and thumb while the rest of the fingers were crinkled into loose “C” shapes - to let me know she was engaged in my story.

So, there I sat with my legs folded and a pillow propped up behind me on that very end of the bed. Many times, I felt cramped, pausing occasionally to stretch or reposition. Watching her, though, resting and enjoying the conversation and seeing the preciousness of myself in her eyes kept me rooted to the spot.

After she listened to me for a time, she would interject with some small pearl of wisdom or saying that she heard or made up herself. She never told me, “not to feel that way,” or “you should this or you ought to that.” She just used little phrases and sayings to put the final point on the story. It frequently brought a quiet revelation and resolution to the issue or problem that I was sorting out.

I’m grateful.

I also now recognize that she didn’t give everyone open access. There were a few people that she didn’t even allow to take more than 2 steps into the room. They were immediately addressed and asked what their intentions were as soon as they came across the threshold. Often, these people had a need from her. But, she knew the intention before they ever spoke. She knew their character and tendency towards self-service, self-absorption, and selfishness.

They were never offered the space at the foot of the bed. They weren’t even invited into the room itself. She protected that space and knew that she had to keep those toxic and self serving energies on the other side of the carpet tacked strip of plastic. That was her line. That was her boundary. They never heard, “Come in, sit down,” from her. She couldn’t risk it.

My own concept of boundaries have been, well…nonexistent. I used to believe that good people should help others to any end and to any point of exhaustion. Because that’s helping your fellow human, right? Strive, strive, strive to let them know that you are there. At any cost to your personal energy, time, and health. It’s the right thing to do, right?

No. Way.

Like my grandmother, I’m seeing that some will take all of that energy, time, health, and then some more because it’s about themselves and their needs/wants. If you let them into your mental, emotional, and physical space, they will TAKE from you all that you have to give and what you have yet earned only to take that too. And they won’t reciprocate, or, maybe they will…a little…to say they did and only if/when it’s convenient for them. And sometimes, when they’re called on that lack of reciprocation, they’ll do a little something just to show that they care out of self preservation. My Mamaw knew this and stopped those people at the carpet tack on the floor. Her boundary didn’t have to be anything bigger than that. Though, I do wonder if those people who don't hear a variation of that invitation are aware that their self centered behavior is the cause of the lack? Or, do they blissfully go through life being okay with it?

Very few others, though, she welcomed graciously into her space because she knew that she could count on them to be reciprocal, respectful, loving, and would treat that zone with the sacred bond of trust and vulnerability that it was consecrated for.

I’m grateful for all the hours I spent in that place with her. I’m now more aware of how Holy that ground was because I have yet to find anything like it anywhere. And wonder if I ever will again.

I’m searching though. I really am. I think all of us need to hear a person say, “Come in, sit down,” as they wave their arm over the spot that’s meant just for you. To know that you will be cherished, held lovingly, and given a soft place to land is heaven on this side of eternity.

I wish you the best in finding your own “foot of the bed”. I’ll keep searching to find mine too.