Places where large crowds gather are awesome breeding grounds for germs—especially when those folks have come from all over the world. Add in a flu season that’s seemed to last forever this year, and you’ll understand why our family packed multiple bottles of hand sanitizer when we headed off for our recent trip to Disney World.
I can’t tell you how many times I heard my daughters-in-law say, “Don’t touch that!” Or “Quit touching everything!” to their young children. But as we went through lines for the attractions, I particularly noticed my five-year-old grandson, Ethan. He’s adventurous and busy, and I don’t think his little hands missed touching much of anything.
We kept dispensing hand sanitizer throughout the days we were there, but since he reminds me so much of his daddy at that age, I couldn’t help but be a bit amused as I watched our sweet boy in action. But one afternoon as we waited in line for one of the attractions, and I saw Ethan rubbing his hand down every rail and wall as we moved forward in line, God whispered to my heart, “See that little guy and how his hand touches everything? It’s the same in your life—there’s not one aspect of your life that My hand hasn’t touched.”
The moment brought tears to my eyes. Every failure. Every sickness. Every moment of waiting. Every fear. Every heartache. Every joy. His hand has been on every one of those times. Instances where He whispered, “Don’t touch that situation. It won’t be good for you.” Or times where He’s dispensed sanitizer on my heart and soul, cleaning up the dirt and grime He found there.
I’m so grateful for His hand of protection. Of deliverance. Of comfort and mercy and love. And I’m so thankful for the assurance that as I spend my days in an often messed-up world, that His loving hands will be with me for whatever situations I might encounter.
