Her fingers barely go around my thumb and it makes it hard for me to hold her little mitt. As her 2nd birthday approaches, she is just beginning to learn to respond with a raised arm when I say "Gimme your hand" as we walk the sidewalk of the outdoor mall. She reaches up and grabs one finger of mine as her quick little steps try to keep pace with my longer stride. She curiously stops at a statue of a kid rollerblading. Just now, a wave of responsibility overwhelms me. Typically in these moments she's either strapped in our stroller or wrapped in our grip as we exercise great influence over the direction she takes. Today for instance, there is to the right a parking lot where cars are pulling in at an illegally fast pace. To the left is a book store, an ice cream shop and some place that smells like candles. Here, I realize in a sense, that she and I have come to a fork in the road. On this day, she will not be allowed to explore the right. She must go to the left...on this day. It haunts me to know that a time will quickly come when those fingers won't be so small...they won't always be wrapped around my index finger. They'll, on occasion be gripping a BFF's arm or intertwined in a boys hand...gulp! Her steps won't always be guided by my gentle tug toward the right things and away from the wrong ones. I am primarily speaking in a spiritual sense here because that is what really matters, but even now I want to pull her towards her Savior. I want her to know Him...to see Him...to love Him. I want her path to lead her to a place where He reveals Himself to her. Because I know what it means to see Him. Even now, as she pats the bronze rollerblader and I glance over her little pig tails swaying in the breeze, I glimpse Jesus. And then I realize what He did there. In the midst of my longing to lead her to Him...she somehow just did that for me.
