I got off a train one Sunday morning behind a woman who was with a young boy. And as we all headed for the exit, she reached for his hand. Trouble was, even though his gait told me he was just a child, he stood head and shoulders above her. Ergo, he was almost a grown man and no way was he ever going to be seen in public clutching his mother's hand!

He shrugged her off.

She pleaded.

He won.

How many parents can relate?! 😉

How many sons and daughters, for that matter?!! ☺

My mother still checks to see if I've got a hat/scarf/umbrella. She's also probably desperate to tell me to be careful crossing the road, but understands the level of opprobrium this will invite, so keeps shtum.

But holding hands, huh!

De rigueur when I was a child!!

As instinctively as you slipped your hand into your Dad's on the walk to school, you did the same with your best friends in the playground later on.

True, it was a sure sign that you were popular, yet so much more. It was an inexplicable feeing - a heady combination of love and safety that lasts way into adulthood.

Claire was my best friend in primary school and her mother laughingly despaired when she took us out as we always lagged behind everyone else.

“It'd be quicker if you weren’t holding hands all the time", she’d say as she manoeuvred us around people and lampposts alike.

We’d simply giggle because we knew even then how important it was to hold on to each other.

Told I'd been seen "strolling down Bayswater Road hand-in-hand with a man", I didn't blink at the thinly-veiled presumption nor need to ask for details. Only the two guys I'd consistently been friends with since I was eighteen fitted the bill. They were ever protective of me, and I grateful for their love and concern.

When my Dad's eyesight was failing, we linked arms whenever we went out together. Ostensibly for me to guide him, but in truth just as much to relive the past.

Yet I remember times when the teenage me was horrified when he showed affection in public. Heavens, I was way too cool for school...

I've been that way with God too.

He reaching down, ready to lead me to my own special paradise; me shrugging Him off dismissively. Cos, duh - who would know me better than I know myself...?

My Dad passed away quite a few years ago, but I like to think that he always recalled as fondly as I do how we once happily strolled hand-in-hand.

And God?

Let's face it, this whole dependency thing is a steep learning curve, and there are lessons which will come hard and fast every day of my life for the rest of my life.

However, one thing is clear - if I made needing His light and steadying touch as essential as breathing, I wouldn't stumble as much as I do.

So while it’s always nice to slip my hand into the warm and comforting one of someone who loves me, I smile knowing the gesture simply mirrors the perfect love of the Father for one of His beloved children.

I, then, am holding firm.

😎

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#TheLoveThatWillNotLetMeGo

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📖 What marvelous love the Father has extended to us! Just look at it—we’re called children of God! That’s who we really are.

1 John 3:1 MSG (YouVersion)

📖 Now we see a blurred image in a mirror...

1 Corinthians 13:12 GW (YouVersion)

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