Saving Space for Other People's Pile!

Have you ever seen or actually been involved in holding a parking spot for someone? You know exactly what I am talking about. You pull into a packed lot, adrenaline already kicking because you know you are about to circle like a shark for twenty minutes, and then somehow you find the golden ticket. A perfect spot. Close. Clean. Right where you need it. And instead of pulling in, you stop. You stand there like a human traffic cone because your buddy is “five minutes out,” which we all know means fifteen at best. So there you are, planted in that spot, arms slightly out like you are directing a plane in, silently daring anyone to challenge your authority over that square of pavement.

And let’s be honest, people do challenge it. You get the slow roll up. The window crack. The look. That look that says, “There is no way this grown man is standing in a parking spot like he owns it.” And yet, you do. Because that spot is not just a spot anymore. It is a statement. It says, this is for someone who matters to me. This is reserved. This is intentional.

We do it with seats too. Ever hold a chair at a crowded event? A concert. A church service. A conference. You throw your jacket over it like it is a territorial flag. You guard it like it is prime real estate. Someone walks by and asks, “Is anyone sitting here?” and without hesitation you say, “Yeah, someone is coming.” You do not even flinch. Because again, it is not just a seat. It is a message. It says, you belong here. I made room for you.

Even lunch tables. Especially lunch tables. That unwritten social battlefield where one empty chair can determine whether someone feels included or completely invisible. You ever slide your tray down and save a spot for someone who is not there yet? You create space. You hold it. You protect it. Because you want them to sit with you. You want them to feel seen.

Holding a spot for someone speaks. It says you matter. It shows value. It shows that someone cares enough to think ahead, to consider your experience before you even arrive. It is simple. It is human. It is powerful.

But here is where it hit me recently. Harder than I expected. Because what started as a thought about physical space turned into something a lot deeper and a lot more uncomfortable.

What about holding space in your heart?

What about holding space in your mind?

What about saving space for people who do not think like you, lead like you, or work like you? Or let me say it the way it actually landed in my gut.

Am I saving space for other people’s pile?

Because if you have been reading anything I have written, you already know where I stand on this. Everybody has a pile. Everybody has their own version of chaos, trauma, habits, pride, insecurity, coping mechanisms, and straight up nonsense. We all carry it. We all drag it around. We all try to hide it, dress it up, justify it, or blame it on someone else. That is the Bullshit Factor. It is universal.

So the real question is not whether people have a pile. The real question is what do you do with someone else’s pile when it shows up in your life?

Do you make room for it? Or do you reject it immediately because it is not stacked the way yours is?

It is easy to hold a parking spot. That costs you a few awkward minutes and maybe a dirty look from a stranger. It is easy to hold a chair. That costs you nothing but a little patience. But holding space for someone’s pile? That is a whole different level of cost.

Because now you are dealing with personality differences. Leadership styles that do not match yours. Work habits that frustrate you. Opinions that grind against everything you believe is right. And let’s be real, some people’s pile stinks. It is messy. It leaks into conversations, into decisions, into relationships. It is not neat and organized. It is not easy to tolerate. And that is where most of us tap out.

We say things like, “That is just how they are,” but what we really mean is, “I am not making room for that.” We say, “I do not have time for that kind of energy,” but what we really mean is, “Your pile makes me uncomfortable and I am not dealing with it.” We say, “They need to figure their stuff out,” but what we really mean is, “I am not saving you a seat at my table.”

Now hear me clearly. This is not about enabling nonsense. This is not about excusing toxic behavior or pretending dysfunction is acceptable. That is not what I am saying. There is a difference between holding space and carrying someone else’s pile for them. You are not called to drag their mess around like it is yours. That is a fast track to burnout and resentment.

But there is also a difference between setting boundaries and completely shutting people out because they do not operate like you.

That tension right there is where growth lives.

Because saving space for someone’s pile requires humility.

It requires you to admit that your pile is not exactly a masterpiece either. You might have organized it better. You might have cleaned it up more. You might have learned how to manage it in a way that looks more presentable. But do not get it twisted. You still have one.

Scripture has a funny way of calling this out whether we like it or not. In Galatians 6:2 it says to carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you fulfill the law of Christ. Not carry your own and ignore everyone else’s. Not compare piles and decide whose is worse. Carry each other’s burdens. That means at some level you are making room for what someone else is carrying.

Then it turns right around in verse 5 and says each one should carry their own load. So which one is it?

It is both. Welcome to the tension.

You are responsible for your pile. Nobody gets a free pass on that. But you are also called to not be so self-absorbed that you cannot make space for someone else’s struggle in your life. That is what love actually looks like when it gets out of the Instagram quotes and into real life.

Jesus did this constantly. Look at John 8 with the woman caught in adultery. Everyone else saw her pile and picked up stones. They were ready to eliminate the problem. Jesus saw her pile and created space. Not to excuse it. Not to say it was fine. He told her to go and sin no more. But before correction came space. Before accountability came grace. He stood between her and the crowd and basically said, if you think your pile is spotless, go ahead and throw the first stone.

Nobody threw anything.

Because when you really look at your own pile, it humbles you real quick. And that is the part we skip.

We want people to make space for us. We want grace when our pile spills out. We want understanding when we have a bad day, when we respond wrong, when we fall short. But when someone else shows up with their mess, we suddenly become real selective about how much space we are willing to give.

That is hypocrisy dressed up as standards.

Saving space for other people’s pile does not mean you agree with them. It does not mean you lower your expectations. It does not mean you stop leading, correcting, or holding people accountable. What it means is you choose not to dehumanize them because of their pile.

You still see them.

You still value them.

You still make room at the table.

In leadership, this matters more than most people realize. If you only make space for people who operate exactly like you, you are not building a team. You are building a mirror. And mirrors do not grow anything. They just reflect what is already there.

Real teams are messy. Different communication styles. Different work speeds. Different motivations. Different backgrounds. Different wounds. If you cannot make space for that, you will spend your entire career frustrated, constantly trying to force people into your mold instead of learning how to lead what is actually in front of you. And in life, it matters even more.

Because the people closest to you are not going to think like you all the time. Your spouse, your friends, your coworkers, your kids. They are going to bring their pile into your space.

Sometimes daily. Sometimes loudly. Sometimes in ways that hit your nerves in places you did not even know existed.

So what do you do? Do you guard your space so tightly that nobody can enter unless they meet your standards?

Or do you save space? Do you stand in that spot and say, this is reserved for someone who matters to me, even when they show up carrying more than I would prefer?

That is not weakness. That is strength under control. That is maturity. That is Christ lived out in real time, not just talked about on Sundays. Because the truth is, somebody saved a spot for you at some point.

Somebody made room for your pile when it was not pretty. When it was inconvenient. When it required patience and grace you did not deserve. And if you are honest, you needed that more than you probably realized at the time.

So now the question comes back around.

Are you doing the same? Are you saving space for other people’s pile? Or are you the person circling the lot, judging everyone else for standing in a spot you think you deserve, while completely ignoring the fact that you have needed someone to do that for you before?

Here is the Bullshit Factor lesson.

Everybody has a pile. That is not the issue. The issue is whether you are mature enough to make space for someone else’s without losing responsibility for your own. If you cannot do both, you are not as evolved as you think you are. You are just better at hiding your mess.

So next time you find yourself getting irritated with someone else’s pile, pause for a second. Remember your own. Remember who made space for you. And then decide, intentionally, to save a spot.

Not because they earned it. But because you understand what it means to need it.