Toddling

Sometimes when I think of Dad, I remember being a little girl holding his hand. I remember being so small that my little hand could only wrap around his stout index finger. I always felt secure holding Dad's hand. He taught me how to trust. Sometimes doubt and fear still flare up in my heart, but a voice in the stillness asks me to sit and listen. Hidden memories begin to surface and my escort helps me understand.

Reliving memories is exercise and it's not always easy. Sometimes I remember the crushing experience of ridicule, the paralysis of fear, the pain of being victimized, loneliness, the struggles of illness, and the ache of seeing a child suffer. But I also relive the thrill of winning a race, falling in love, childbirth, the support of true friendship, finding faith, and the pure joy of leading another to Jesus.

I remember doing migrant work picking fruit; vivid sights of rainbows, the feeling of rain on my face, the ache of a back too-long hunched over, and the kindness of fellow workers.

The bondage and shame of addictions rears up in memory so vividly that I sometimes feel crushed again. The frustration and strength found in the slow lessons of waiting come to mind. In thought, I ride down the slope of dependence and back to the high thrill of independence. Once again I sense the emptiness of feeling needy and the contrasting comfort of fulfillment.

Remember the refreshing sensation of sunlight warming you up? What about the peace of a misty outdoor morning walk, the fun of giving, the intimacy of losing yourself in worship, catching a favorite fragrance – freshly cut grass, honeysuckle, approaching rain, coffee – the sweetness of a child's cuddle, the stimulation of new discoveries, and the rushing of your heartbeat when you know God is revealing a new truth.

As I reflect, the Lord reminds me that he's been with me all along, just like my dad for his toddler. He catches me, supports me, and shows me the sweetness of life. If he had withdrawn his hand, I would have fallen hopelessly during the struggles. And without knowing he was near, the victories would have lost a lot of their flavor.

I'm still walking like a toddler in so many areas of life. What a comfort to know my little hand is wrapped around the fingers of an unfailing savior. I know I have value in his eyes because he always stays beside me - at my toddler's pace - catching me when I stumble, renewing my strength, and rejoicing when I take bold new steps.