Holding to God’s Hand

Her chubby hand clutches mine, tightly. Her feet are awkward, faltering. She often stumbles, trips, falls, swings wildly.

Sometimes, she gets right back up and walks stubbornly onward.

Sometimes, she wants to cling to both my hands, anchored by the balance of having me behind.

Sometimes, she changes her method, zipping forward on all fours, intent on the goal.

Sometimes, she cries and reaches her sweet arms upward: “Mama, Mama.”

She is my own sweet girl, learning how to walk. Learning how to navigate this big, scary, incredible world.

I see myself reflected in her.

Ps 37_23-24

Though I may be more adept at physically walking, the path we walk in life is often rocky and treacherous. Even on the smooth parts of the path, we are warned that the Adversary roams, like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8).

If we focus too much on the path, we might feel our hearts constrict with fear, overwhelmed by our own inabilities, inadequacies.

But, if I am seeking the Lord, if I am delighting myself in Him and His ways, I don’t have to worry about when I fall. About when I slip or tumble, mess up, falter, sin, and lose heart.

God is close enough, not just to hear me call out. He holds my hand.

If I can guide my sweet Gwen’s uncertain steps, how much more can the Great God Himself guide me throughout life and into eternity, as He leads me by the hand.

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