He wasn’t really walking as much as he was dancing. Dressed in a blue Power Rangers sweatshirt, he cavorted in front of the line of cars in the Wal Mart parking lot.
I had to stop for him. I watched with rapt fascination as he moved to a position that was more in line with my vehicle’s projected path than he had been before, for the sole purpose of stomping through a puddle of rain water. Was he Godzilla, smashing a town? What images were conjured in his mind as water dropplets hurled from either side of his foot? Another car came to a stop behind mine.
A strong hand pulled on the little boy’s left hand, and he literally soared away from the puddle, back into a position which provided more safety than his previous one. Out from the path of the waiting cars, off to the side of his parent. He tilted back his head, all buzz-cut and freckles, and let loose a laugh from the ride.
I didn’t move until they were safely inside, and I could virtually feel the impatience of the driver behind me. I had to wait…let it soak in. Lessons like that are important. He was not in a safe place…nothing safe about a sea of cars laden with consumers. Danger rolled on each side of him, in front and behind him, but he was calm. He was dancing. It’s all about who holds the hand. For that little man, nothing around him posed a threat, because he knew his mom was there, holding his hand, guiding him to safety.
There was shopping to do, there were cars to park, but I was caught up in a little angel’s jig.
There are a lot of things facing me…facing us….that could threaten, and frighten us. Bewildering things like church growth and responsibilities…mysterious things like illness and death. I want to be like that angel in blue. I want to joy in the journey like he did. I want to trust that the One who’s holding my hand is good, and have confidence that He will guide us all through.
The problem is, it’s easier to write about it than live it out. Well…maybe not for you, but it’s that way for me.