Hand Holding Detention.

Life has some comforts. Rocking chairs, the ratty, worn dress quilt that is wrapped around me and a little boy right now. (A boy who’s been up since 5 am.) There are hot baths, cups of coffee, and hand holding.  I do a lot of hand holding.  Up the stairs, down the stairs, across the street, don’t wander from me… Hand holding is often out of need. But it’s still a comfort. And maybe it’s always been both.

I remember when my date of a couple months, (future husband) held my hand for the first time. He asked permission, and I was shy. I took my hand away from his when we reached my door step. I was afraid of his hand holding. Afraid he’d take my heart too—and he did. 

I got my one-and-only detention over hand holding in high school. It was written, "for dating." Hand holding was worth it, worth it for my one-and-only.

I remember letting him go, never knowing when, or if I’d see him again. War was a word of the past. I never expected to have those three letters steal him from me.  I clasped my own two hands together, praying for his return. And when he did, I never wanted to let go.

A little boy and I, we’re under this warm quilt, Rowan’s little hand in mine. Cars is running on the screen. He is comforted. Whatever stole his sleep away this early morning, and sent him to my arms, tears have dried, and he is secure in my lap.

I should be secure too. My security has been paid for. A hand has been offered for all of time.

Psalm 139:7 -10  Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from

thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell,

behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the

uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and

thy right hand shall hold me.

My hands are never empty, even when they are-- not often.  It feels good to have them filled.  Filled with little hands, sometimes his hand—but always led by my Savior’s. His hand is strong to lead me, gentle to guide me: a need and a comfort. 

Lord, may my hand not be tight fisted, but open. May my heart stay open to You too. Help me to follow wherever You lead.
 

Your love sonnet today, so clear—You hold my hand.


I'm reminded of the professor's proposal to Jo in the last lines of Little Women. He said, "But what can I give you? My hands are empty." Placing her hands in his, she replies, "Not empty any more." God's love is like that too. We go to Him empty, and He fills us.

 

Hebrews 8:8-10  For finding fault with them, he saith, Behold, the days come,

saith the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with

the house of Judah: Not according to the covenant that I made with their fathers

in the day when I took them by the hand to lead them out of the

land of Egypt; because they continued not in my covenant, and I regarded

them not, saith the Lord. For this is the covenant that I will make with the house

of Israel after those days, saith the Lord; I will put my laws into their mind, and

write them in their hearts: and I will be to them a God, and they shall be to me a

people: