I walk with him across the snowy parking lot.
clinging tightly to his hand.
He’s only 3 years old,-
too young to trust that he will hold mine.
I hold their hands.
And think of how You hold mine.
They will get older.
I will not hold their hand.
I will never outgrow my need to have
You hold mine.
Psalm 139: 10. . . even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.