I think our little 10 month's old first words will be 'Hold my hand, Graham!'. Not really...but it's a serious thought since we say it enough!
But as I grabbed my older son's hand before crossing a parking lot, I realized I'm thankful for my Father holding my hand. If I can even begin to compare my holding Graham's hand to Him holding mine...but it was a moment God spoke!
See...as I grab his little hand whether he is cooperating or not, not holding my hand isn't an option in a parking lot, crossing the street, etc. It's just a rule we have as I'm sure all parents have for their little ones. It's meant to keep them safe and close. So, as I'm holding his hand anticipating the pull of resistance, I watch. I watch for danger, things that could entangle his little feet, threats, things meant for harm. You see, as I hold his hand, I can quickly and efficiently move him out of the way of things meant to harm him. I remain in control of him. If I am prepared, I can resist the pull away and continue holding on.
That's how I want God to hold my hand. Hold it while I squirm, while I learn whats around me meant for harm, and while I'm just plain not paying attention to the world around me. His grip on my hand is for my own protection, my safety, and my comfort. I know my Father God loves me, has His hand on me and is guiding me through His perfect plan. The walk is much easier and much more enjoyable when I am holding on as well and not trying to pull away. But I'm thankful He doesn't let go.
Rachel
