Holding Hands

Back in May of 1982 I went on a road trip with this guy I knew to attend the weddings of some friends from college. This guy was someone I knew through my involvement in the college Christian group InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. This guy and I were fast becoming best friends. He was very loyal and seemed to really care about me and my well-being. (And as some of you might guess, this guy became my husband two summers later.) My most vivid memory of that trip (aside from the bright pink sundress with matching bolero jacket with white trim I had made and wore to one of the weddings) was that this guy, who was becoming my best friend, held my hand. In my mind's eye I can still see our hands, fingers intertwined, resting between the seats of his 1980 Mazda GLC hatchback. I remember the security and peace and comfort and even love I felt when he held my hand.

Zip forward to 1990. We added a sweet little girl to our family that February. Her big brother was smitten with her and loved to hold her hand and kiss it. When she got big enough to pull her hand away, he would say to me wistfully, "Mommy, remember when Megan used to let me hold her hand?"

 

Then that little girl learned to walk and I would hold her hand as we walked through a parking lot or in the grocery store to keep her safe and close to me. I remember when Megan was 4 or 5 or 6 or 7, I would feel that sweet little hand slip into mine whenever she felt nervous about a new situation. I grieved when she became confident in herself and the big world around her and didn't need to hold my hand anymore.


I also remember the couple of times I have had to go back to the doctor for "further testing". Both times as I was walking in I prayed, "Hold my hand, Jesus" and reached out my right hand to His and we walked in there together. (Both times the test results did not show anything serious. Praise Jesus.)


There have been many nights in our 27-plus years of marriage that I have fallen asleep holding my husband's hand feeling safe, connected, loved.


This morning I was reading in a new devotional Jesus Calling (by Sarah Young) that I received for my birthday. The last couple of sentences in today's reading:

"Enjoy the tempo of a God-breathed life by letting Me set the pace.  

Hold My hand in child-like trust, and the way before you will open up step by step." 

I read these verses to my mom when she was in the ICU two years ago:

Yet I am always with you; You hold me by my right hand. You guide me with Your counsel, 

and afterward You will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but You?

And earth has nothing I desire besides You. My flesh and my heart may fail, 

but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. 

                                                              Psalm 73:23-26 

Isn't it just the coolest thing that Jesus holds our hand? When I visualize that I feel loved, safe, peaceful, secure, protected, and cherished.

Hold my hand, Jesus, hold my hand.