It has been over a year since I have offered any insight on life. It has been a difficult year having lost my Dad among other challenges. As I jump back into writing, today I take my readers on an anointed detour.
It was a bright sunny day last week in Prosper Texas when I saw God. It was in the hands of my oldest son. His little blond headed daughter (all of two years of age) was trying to climb a roped playground platform. Her little legs couldn’t quite give her the lift she needed to reach the top. For her, the struggle was real. Seeing her not being able to navigate the climb, my son walked over, placed his hands on her back, and gently elevated her to the next level.
Proud of her ascent, she turned and said excitedly, I made it Daddy, I made it!”
Her accomplishment was simply made possible by the gentle hand of the one who gave her life.
I am reminded almost daily that all the things I’ve been able to accomplish in life, has only been possible by the hand of my heavenly Father who lifted me at the appointed time.
Though I have been tempted to believe that my own accomplishments in life are of my own accord, the hands of my son served to remind me of an important spiritual truth; my accomplishments have little to do with me. It is the One who gives life, that helps us achieve our goals.
As the afternoon sun cast its shadows across the playground, I saw my final spiritual lesson for the day. Though as humans, I know we’d all choose to live in perpetual bliss, we can’t; it was evident that it was time to go. The laurels of success cannot be celebrated forever. My son called both his daughters to tell them we were heading off to our next destination. Tears of frustration and anguish with the words, “I don’t want to go, I want to stay” we’re vociferously proclaimed. To stay was not an option; for the next place was solely at the father’s choosing.
How often I too have petitioned God to keep me where I was most comfortable, only to shed tears at the fear of an unknown next step. Unbeknownst to my granddaughters however, the final destination that afternoon was home. Isn’t that where we all want to be?
No matter His timing or destination for me, I believe I’ll trust my Father. As we left the playground, my son carrying his littlest daughter, wiped her tears, and held her close. For an earthly father or spiritual one, we couldn’t ask for any more than that could we?