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Hold my hand

November 7th, 2003 · 1 Comment

Where we are right now is a scary place to be. We’ve taken a step as a family in our faith but we can’t see any farther on this path. The next step is unclear. We are waiting to know the next move to make, suspended in space.

Sometimes it seems a bit dark. I’ve felt lonely at times. I’ve even felt rejected and useless. Depressed and confused. I’ve cried. I’ve questioned. I’ve found myself wondering where God is. He once seemed close and clear but now seems far and fuzzy.

This morning, after a comforting conversation with a friend, a picture came into my mind. And I felt God saying He is holding my hand. That all I need to do right now is hold His hand and wait right where we are now.

Tonight Michaela went upstairs after dinner and I went up to retrieve her. It was family time to be spent in the living room, not yet time to be in her bedroom. Also I didn’t want her to disturb my sister, who was packing up her possessions and trying to catch a ferry, after staying with us for a while.

When I found her, my daughter explained that she had come upstairs because: “I wanted to give Auntie a kiss.” And she had.
“Come on, Michaela, time to go back to the living room, ” I said, guiding her with a gentle touch on her back.
I expected her to come. I thought she’d follow me. Or walk beside me. Or go ahead of me with her bouncy gait and enthusiasm.

But as we started to go down the stairs, Michaela stopped and said something softly.
I couldn’t hear her, so she said it again.
“I want you to hold my hand, Mommy.”
Surprised by my independent 3-year-old’s request, I asked, “Why?”
“Because you like me.”

Because you like me. She wanted Mommy to hold her hand because Mommy liked her. I do like my daughter and I do want to hold her hand.

The picture from the morning came to mind, and I nearly cried at her words, realizing the larger logic. Here I had been thinking God was holding my hand to comfort me. He was doing a duty, taking care of a child. But if He is holding my hand because He likes me…Wow!

I held Michaela’s hand in my own and walked down the stairs beside her, happy in my heart, grateful for my daughter, eager to show her love.
We talked as we walked back into the living room hand in hand.
What I wanted to say was:
Thanks, Michaela. I needed to hear that.
I needed to hold your hand. I needed you to hold mine.

Tags: faith · motherhood

1 response so far ↓

  • 1 Katherine // Nov 10, 2003 at 3:50 pm

    I needed to hear it, too. Thanks, Michaela.