Daddy’s Shoulders

Yesterday in front of the library, I slowed down for a young family crossing the street. A dad, a small child and a mama. The toddler boy was up on his father’s shoulders and as they crossed the roadway, his daddy held onto the boys’ legs and bounced him wildly. The little boy was squealing with delight even while holding onto his daddy’s head for dear life, up and down, up and down — his face displaying simultaneous joy and terror as they covered territory.

It occurred to me to wonder in how many of life circumstances do I look like that little boy. God has got a secure grip on me, and I know it. Sort of. I think. Up and down I go on the voyage of life; I’m terrified, I’m delighted. Do I look to God like that little boy looked to me? Don’t I realize just how firmly He’s holding us?

Most of all, that little boy looked very alive and very in the moment. I hope I look that alive, squealing with delight about what My Father has done. I suppose I need to cling to Him all the more, and enjoy the ride.

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