Desert Streams
Desert Streams is a quiet place to sit with grief, longing, and the steady presence of God. Hosted by Jessie Kuhn, LPC-S, these short reflections offer a gentle companion between therapy sessions and in the in-between seasons of life. No fixing. No pressure. Just space to breathe, notice what’s true, and be met where you are. You’re welcome to come as you are.
If you’re looking for counseling or additional support, you can learn more at desertstreams126.com
Desert Streams
Episode 5 — Already Held
Use Left/Right to seek, Home/End to jump to start or end. Hold shift to jump forward or backward.
Share what this space is like for you
An episode for noticing what has been holding you — even here.
In this reflection, we gently name the quiet presence that has been with you all along. Without asking you to feel differently or understand more, we consider what it means that you may not be staying on your own — that even in the unresolved, something — someone — has been holding you.
More episodes, reflections, and information about my counseling practice can be found at
desertstreams126.com/podcast
I’m glad you’re here.
Welcome back. I'm so glad you're here. If you're listening to this from inside something that hasn't resolved, you don't need to gather yourself before we begin. Nothing is being asked of you here. Over the last few episodes, I've been talking about staying. Not as an effort or even as a virtue. But as something that becomes possible when pressure lifts. When I wasn't being hurried, when I wasn't being evaluated, when I wasn't being asked to turn my experience into progress. But there hasn't been absence either. Something. Someone has been quietly holding me. Jesus. Not arriving once I settled down. Not showing up after I understood what was happening. Not waiting for me to be ready to receive anything. Just here. When I assumed that if I didn't leave, it was because I was managing somehow. But as the bracing softened, I realized something surprising. I wasn't holding myself together. When my shoulders didn't drop, when the ache didn't move anywhere. And still I was being held. Jesus wasn't correcting my posture. He wasn't even asking me to calm down. He wasn't using the moment to teach me something. He just stayed. So much of what I expected involved motion. Guidance, clarity, next steps. But what met me instead was presence. Just remained. And that's mattered more than I knew how to ask for. Changes how alone you feel inside of them. If you're listening and things still feel unresolved, if the longing is still there, if nothing has shifted in any obvious way. Holding you without even drawing attention to himself. Nothing to remember. Nothing to practice. You don't even need to hold on to this awareness. It's enough to know, even briefly, that you're not staying by yourself. I'll leave you here. Not with an answer and not with a direction. Just the possibility that you are already held.