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."
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.




