Every other summer for the past several years, my family has rented a different beach house in North Carolina. Usually, there are about 10 of us, and it is a blast!
For the first day or two, because I’m in someone else’s home, I find myself flipping light switches on and off just to see what lights they’re connected to. I open three kitchen cabinet doors before I remember where the mugs are so I can have a cup of tea.
By the end of the week, I know where everything is and no longer open several cabinet doors before finding a mug for tea, but I’m still not intimately acquainted with the details and quirks of the house. I don’t know the reasons for the décor choices, if the wall color is the owner’s favorite or if it was chosen because it matched the furniture. I don’t know if the rocking chairs on the porch are family heirlooms or ones the owners bought because they were last year’s sale item.
I’m staying in that house for the week, but it’s not my home.
I’m a visitor.
Sometimes the owners of the beach houses have a “guest book,” and when one is there, we sign it. And we do our best to be sure that’s the only remnant of our presence we leave behind. Yes, it’s a vacation spot for us. Yes, we stay for a week or two. But it’s someone else’s home.
I’m a visitor.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the difference between being alone and lonely and the importance of inviting others along on the journey. If you’ve risked inviting another to be a part of your journey, I applaud you! Vulnerability is often not an easy choice.
If you’ve been invited into another’s journey, I also applaud you. Being regarded as someone who is trustworthy is no small feat. But will you permit me to give you a word of caution? Please tread lightly when you are walking the path of another’s journey. Yes, you’ve been invited. Yes, you’re along for the ride. But it isn’t your journey.
You are a visitor.
If you’ve been invited on someone else’s journey, chances are good that the person values your thoughts and will seek your opinion and advice on matters. They may have even given you permission to weigh in on topics without first being prompted. Grace, kindness, and love will go a long way in those moments. You may know intimate details about the person’s life, but as much as they’ve shared with you, no one really knows all the details. There will be moments when their reaction to a situation takes you by surprise. There will be times their response will seem to be out of proportion to the circumstances.
Grace, kindness, and love will go a long way in those moments.
You are a visitor.
Sometimes, asking questions is the kindest thing you can do. Creating space for more of their story to be shared allows a person to feel known and valued. Feeling like someone truly hears and understands your perspective opens up opportunities for deep healing.
Sometimes, your advice may not always be needed. They may be doing a lot of talking, but there will be times when the best thing you can give is a simple, “I know this is difficult, and I’m sorry. I’m in this with you for as long as it takes.”
Other times, the kindest thing you can do is to offer your silence. Simply offering your presence is what may be needed.
You may have been on another’s journey for some time with them. You’ve signed the guest book, you’re no longer wondering what light this particular switch is connected to, and you go straight to the kitchen cabinet that holds the mugs. There’s familiarity, but it’s not your home.
It’s not your journey.
You are a visitor.
Grace, kindness, and love go a long way in those moments. Please tread lightly.
Have questions? Interested in talking about this idea? Please feel free to send me an email or schedule some one-on-one time with me. And consider subscribing to my blog, where I post lots of helpful suggestions on how you can begin (and continue) this journey of recovering your blueprint!
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