“Hold Them in Your Heart With Love”

Posted on by Victoria

The other day I got swept up in an interlude of wonder…thinking about a former student and whether or not she was well, and safe.  She struggled with an eating disorder and as I got to know her, she made great strides toward recovery but the issues she faced would not be remedied easily and she knew this.  She was capable and strong, a student athlete dedicated to her studies and sport, but the undertow of familiar and destructive coping mechanisms had a hold on her.  She was vulnerable and allowed me in, which was a precious gift.

My moment of wonder?  I saw a young girl unwrap a protein bar in a park.  She sat on a bench, unaware as I took note of her.  I paused my morning walk to adjust a wonky sock and decided a break was a good idea.  I saw her as she sat facing the pond, her head down as she stared at her hands.  I’d passed her once in the loop around the park and thought she was heavily dressed for a warm summer day.  Layers…and layers.  A baseball cap and oversized shades, walking with purposeful strides – looking both strong and frail at the same time. 

She reminded me of my former student.  Attempting to cloak her diminished frame, she wore an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans – maybe on top of sweatpants?  I know the tricks. My student dressed the same and often had decoy snacks in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie, too. Snickers bars were her thing, and she carried the same bar with her – sometimes for weeks at a time.  When someone offered her a snack or if she was with others having a meal, she’d retrieve her Snickers prop – sometimes with a bite taken out of it already – to convey ‘I’m good, I’m good”. 

The girl in the park?  As I walked past her on the path, the memory of my student didn’t come forward right away.  But when I saw her on the bench?  A wave of recognition.  I know you, I thought.   As I regarded her more closely – trying to be as stealth as I could – I saw she was staring at what looked like a protein bar in her hands.  Her shaking hands.  And I knew.  She was in battle mode, in a war with herself about whether to eat it or not.  Could I have been wrong and misinterpreted?  Maybe.  But I believe in the wave of insight I received.  And a tear rolled down my cheek. 

I wanted to rush to her.  To sit next to her.  To say nothing.  To say everything.  But I felt helpless.  She had no clue I was watching, surreptitiously.  There was no nonchalant way for me to engage her in conversation.  And I ached.

I thought about my student and the deliberate way she handled food, unwrapping her Snickers bar with the precision of a surgeon as I watched the girl peel back the wrapper on her bar.  I thought about my student who would pretend to take a bite if someone was watching.  So practiced and rehearsed.  I remembered how she could take a nibble, and position it on the side of her cheek, undetected, until she could spit it out.  I wondered if the girl by the pond would take the next step – a courageous bite – but she didn’t.  She wrapped the bar up, tucked it into her pocket and strode away.  Unaware of me.  Unaware of anyone, I suspect.

The encounter stuck with me as I thought about my student.  I hope she is well.  I hope she is whole.  And then I remembered this quote – a gem from a colleague who kept it on her desk for years.  A wish, a plea that she added into her loving kindness meditations, as needed.  A practice I stole from her:

Sometimes you cannot help, but bear witness just the same.  Be willing to believe in goodness, the potential for healing, even as those you encounter carry pain you cannot address.  Hold them in your heart with love, the strangers you meet who are fellow travelers.  Wish them well.  They were seen and they are loved.

If you have time for just a little more, please hop over to my post on Victoria Ponders.  AI interlopers are adding to social media madness with ridiculous bot-generated advice about weight loss.

Thanks, as always, for reading – both here and on my personal blog. I don’t say it often enough…thank you for taking the time to read and to comment.

-Vicki ❤

In the U.S.  If you or someone you love needs help with an eating disorder, the National Eating Disorders Association has resources, including this screening tool. If you need help immediately, call 988 or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “NEDA” to 741741.

NEDA 2023 Back to School | National Eating Disorders Association

Recovery Tips to Include in Your School Backpack | National Eating Disorders Association

40 thoughts on ““Hold Them in Your Heart With Love””

  1. Pingback: Back to School – With Love – Victoria Ponders

    1. Good morning, Georgia and thank you. I imagine you have more than a few encounters nestled in your heart. Grateful to you for reading and for your sweet comment. 💕

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  4. Such a heartbreaking story—and equally so, the sense of helplessness we experience as we encounter such moments. The quote from your colleague is a wonderful reminder that healing can be offered and received in unseen ways. We never know the power that hides within a positive thought—or a negative one. It calls for me to search within and ask, “What am I thinking?!” Think love, Julia!

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      5. Ditto this! I’m constantly searching for short phrases to pull myself away from what I want less of and toward more of what I want more of; running longwinded, as I do, is not so helpful in these moments. “Think love, Deb” is perfect & I’m grateful to now have this short, potent phrase!

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  5. It truly heartbreaking to see suffering in world, knowing there’s nothing we can do or that it wouldn’t be our place to intervene. I love the idea of wishing them well as I pass by, so I’m going to start that. Thanks, Vicki.🥰💕

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  7. I love the gentle bearing witness you do here, Vicki. And your gorgeous writing as you express everything from the experience (the wonky sock), to the cogitations as you watched, and the memory of your former student. What I especially love about this post is that you not only send love but you also make us as readers feel better about our encounters with people that we send love to as well.

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    1. I love those words…’bearing witness’ and doing so with love even though we can’t make things right for others with our good intentions alone. Thanks for all of that, Wynne. xo! 💕

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  8. I had goosebumps all through reading this post, an exquisitely tender example of bearing witness with love. So then when I read your parting quote, my eyes filled with tears.

    Your post is, absolutely, the exemplification of that quote transformed to flesh-and-blood practice. My heart is so freakin’ full with all this, I don’t even know what to do with the fullness … except, perhaps, use it as motivation to myself work to grow into such a grace-filled practice. ❤

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    1. Oh…those are beautiful words — ‘a grace filled practice’. I don’t know that I do that…but we try, don’t we? Thanks for your lovely comment, Deborah. I’m filled up, too! 🥰

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  10. What a touching few moments Vicki, to witness another human caught in a heart-wrenching struggle, knowing she likely feels so alone while also being terrified to be found out. Your colleagues words are exceptional and a profound reminder that we may never know, even in the simplest of ways, how we touch another human being when they need it the most.

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    1. Thank you for all of that, Deb. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve included the part about the tear rolling down my cheek, but it was true and real, that feeling of being helpless – unable to be of assistance but that’s when my friend’s plea/prayer came to mind. It helps – as does Julia’s version “Think Love”. Hugs to you, my friend. 💕💕💕

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  11. I hope the young girl will find peace with her issues. And thanks for the gentle reminder from your colleague to – “Hold them in your heart with love, the strangers you meet who are fellow travelers. Wish them well. They were seen and they are loved.” ❤❤❤❤❤

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    1. Feel the same, Mary. Hopeful she will find her way. And thank you for your appreciation of my colleague’s wisdom. Seen and loved. What else is there? xo! 💕

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  12. Oh man, this one tugged at my heart. I can understand the want to help, the familiarity of the situation, but sometimes, bearing witness is the only thing we can do indeed. Hope they are both ok.

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  13. This was very moving. And uncomfortable, sad. But oh so true. Thanks for speaking the truth. And thanks for some reminders as I prepare to welcome some 150+ new, beautiful students to my class and so many more in the hallways, etc. I’ll be printing this quote out and looking at it often. I also really like Julie’s “Think love”!

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    1. Thank you so much, Belle. I actually thought of you and other educator friends that are headed back to the classroom when I wrote this piece. So much to think about and prepare for as a new year begins. And yes! I adore the simplicity of “think love”. So good. Take care of yourself, too! Sending big hugs…grateful to you for reading and for your lovely comment. ❤️❤️❤️

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