Our son, Jeremy, was the guest minister this past Sunday at a sweet church way out in the mountains of North Carolina. My husband and I drove to Jeremy’s house and rode across the mountain with him and his family. It took us about an hour to get to the church on a winding road.
The drive was beautiful with majestic mountain vistas, gorgeous fields, old farmhouses and wide creeks that meandered beside the road.
When we arrived, the church sat on a hilltop. The classic white exterior against a background of bright blue sky and puffy white clouds looked like something you’d see on a postcard.
And to my grandchildren’s delight, a large white dog was sleeping by the steps at the front door of the church. Well, at least he was sleeping until they arrived—but then he jumped up to get some loving from his admiring new friends.
Read More: The Loving Language of a Family
One of the joys of my life is seeing my sons serve God—two in ministry and one through music ministry at his church—so it was special to this mama’s heart to hear Jeremy’s message on God’s love and forgiveness.
But one of the sweetest moments happened on the drive home. I was in the middle seat with our four-year-old twin grandchildren in their car seats. My husband climbed into the far back seat with seven-year-old granddaughter, Anna. And then Anna did something that brought tears to my eyes. When I looked back at them, she’d reached over and grabbed her granddaddy’s hand. She held it most of the way home. Such a precious moment.
It made me think about how many times I’ve reached for my heavenly Father’s hand. Times when I was scared and needed Someone to hold on to. Days when I was weak, and I needed Him to hold me up and give me strength. Moments when I didn’t know what to do and needed guidance and direction.
And times—like that moment when sweet Anna held her beloved granddaddy’s hand—that I just wanted to hold God’s hand because I love Him and want to be close to Him.
I’m so grateful for the love that is always waiting there for me.
