Your right hand, O Lord, glorious in power,
Your right hand, O Lord, shatters the enemy.
Exodus 15:6
Your right hand, O Lord, shatters the enemy.
Exodus 15:6
I'm standing at the stove sauteing chicken for dinner and he's pulling at the hem of my shorts. AGAIN. He whines impatiently.
Eric and I habitually narrate Clay's life for him. (I think I'll be kind of sad in a way when Clay narrates his own life because it's fun to imagine what he's thinking.) In my head, Clay is begging, "Mommy, please, I want to walk around the house, but I'm scared to do it on my own. Give me your hand."
Time hop a few weeks and this scene with a baby at my knees is rare. He walks now and he doesn't need my hand. "Mommy, I got this, you go back to what you were doing before I was learning to walk. I can get into more trouble if you don't follow me anyway... Except this pillow (drain pipe, pile of toys, laundry basket, your leg, etc.) I'm trying to walk on is kind of scary. Give me your hand."
And then I narrate my own life in my head, "Mr. Clay, how many phases and lessons will we learn together about hand holding?"
Give me your hand to wash before you put it in your mouth!
Give Daddy your hand on the escalator.
Give me your hand while we wait for communion.
And before long, your hand will be a extended to others:
Give your sister your hand while you get on the school bus.
Give your fiance your hand when she arrives at the end of the aisle to become your wife.
Give your old Mom a hand while I try to get up from playing with my grandkids.
You'll spend your childhood letting go of my hand and your adulthood holding fast to new hands - those who graciously help you at your first job, your life-long friends, and the family you'll make for yourself. You know my hand will always be there, but I expect that you'll let go over time, just like you did a few weeks ago. And I'll be proud. And I'll be a little sad, too.
The truth is all hand holding is just a phase. Time, space, growth, and even death, changes things. Hands slip, break, and age.
But there's one exception: The hand that created Earth and sky, you and me, justice and mercy - that hand is different. No matter how much your hand grows, or gets covered in dirt, or feels clammy from nerves, His hand will fit yours perfectly. He will say to you, "Give me your hand," and whether you're scared or satisfied, take it. He'll never be too busy sauteing chicken and if He needs your hand to comfort others, He will guide it. He will do the work.
Just hand Him back the hand He gave you.
And, if you would, remind me of that when you let go.
Eric and I habitually narrate Clay's life for him. (I think I'll be kind of sad in a way when Clay narrates his own life because it's fun to imagine what he's thinking.) In my head, Clay is begging, "Mommy, please, I want to walk around the house, but I'm scared to do it on my own. Give me your hand."
Time hop a few weeks and this scene with a baby at my knees is rare. He walks now and he doesn't need my hand. "Mommy, I got this, you go back to what you were doing before I was learning to walk. I can get into more trouble if you don't follow me anyway... Except this pillow (drain pipe, pile of toys, laundry basket, your leg, etc.) I'm trying to walk on is kind of scary. Give me your hand."
And then I narrate my own life in my head, "Mr. Clay, how many phases and lessons will we learn together about hand holding?"
Give me your hand to wash before you put it in your mouth!
Give Daddy your hand on the escalator.
Give me your hand while we wait for communion.
And before long, your hand will be a extended to others:
Give your sister your hand while you get on the school bus.
Give your fiance your hand when she arrives at the end of the aisle to become your wife.
Give your old Mom a hand while I try to get up from playing with my grandkids.
You'll spend your childhood letting go of my hand and your adulthood holding fast to new hands - those who graciously help you at your first job, your life-long friends, and the family you'll make for yourself. You know my hand will always be there, but I expect that you'll let go over time, just like you did a few weeks ago. And I'll be proud. And I'll be a little sad, too.
The truth is all hand holding is just a phase. Time, space, growth, and even death, changes things. Hands slip, break, and age.
But there's one exception: The hand that created Earth and sky, you and me, justice and mercy - that hand is different. No matter how much your hand grows, or gets covered in dirt, or feels clammy from nerves, His hand will fit yours perfectly. He will say to you, "Give me your hand," and whether you're scared or satisfied, take it. He'll never be too busy sauteing chicken and if He needs your hand to comfort others, He will guide it. He will do the work.
Just hand Him back the hand He gave you.
And, if you would, remind me of that when you let go.
Above: Clay gives Grammie a hand with the frosting beaters. Daddy gives Clay a hand on his new climbing toy.