Holding the rope

I've written about this before, but it bears repeating. And besides, it was the other essay I wrote that I liked enough to consider submitting to "This I Believe." So here it is:

I believe in holding the rope. Through very difficult times, my sister has been my stalwart rope-holder; and let me tell you that there aren’t many things more loving than that. I’m sure her hands are raw and her muscles sore, even though she often writes, “You’re not heavy — you’re my sister.” Can you imagine how hard it is to hold that rope month after month, knowing that if you let go — or the rope frays and breaks — you may lose forever the person hanging onto the other end? Looking back now, I see clearly how close I was to giving up. But my sister wouldn’t let me. She isn’t the only one who held the rope, but she held it night after night, day after day — and she just wouldn’t give up on me.

Loie is a world-champion rope-holder, and I believe in holding the rope, because I know it saved me when I was floundering on the rocks. Sometimes it's the only and the best thing we can do for those we love. Many of our biggest battles rage within, while our family and friends stand by helplessly. But they have an important job: holding the rope. We share our trials and hopes, and any victory or joy of one of us is a victory or joy for all of us. Hey, sometimes you get the bear, and sometimes the bear gets you. This time, the bear didn’t get me.

So never underestimate the power of holding the rope. It can save a life.