"Victoria, would you take my hand?" I asked my two year old daughter as we walked down the stairs together.
Victoria looked over at my offered hand doubtfully. I wash my hands regularly, so it wasn't dirty, but she still didn't seem too sure of it. She was walking with her arms crossed, her hand tucked into her armpits. "No, Dad," she told me after a moment's thought. "My hands are full."
I suppose my face looked a little sad. I'm old enough that I don't have to hold hands with anyone for safety reasons, but there are still some people that I enjoy holding hands with and Victoria happens to fall on that list.
Of course, she was right too -- her hands were full, of herself. It was more that she didn't want to take my hand than that she couldn't.
It makes me think of my relationship with my heavenly Father. Most of the time, I am content -- even happy -- if He wants to tag-along with me and watch me do my activities during the day. As long as things are going OK, I don't even think too much about Him, much less pray for His help and guidance.
On the other hand, when trouble comes, find myself reaching out, clutching for His hand and asking for His help. The reality is that I need Him far more than I am willing to admit.
All too often I pray, "God please go with me today." While that sounds fine, I would reach the point where I learn to place my hand in His and tell Him, "Father, I don't know where we're going today, but I will follow wherever you lead."
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