I love how she holds onto me—her little hand grasping my finger or my clothes, as tightly as possible. She holds on as if her very life depends on it.  Sometimes as she drifts into her deepest sleep, she’ll let go. She’ll release my gown or my shirt or my finger, her hand gradually sliding down to rest by her side.
Her holding me, reminds me I do the same with God. I grasp hold of Him—to my faith—as if my very life depends on it. I hold on to the Father with all my might. But then there are moments when I drift. I wander. I lose my way a bit and my grip loosens.
Tonight, she held me until she didn’t—until her tiny body drifted into the deepest slumber. Then she let go. But do you know what happened? I still held her. I never moved. I never let go.
And I was reminded of a beautiful, powerful truth about our loving and faithful God. We may lose our way sometimes. We may stumble and fall. We may release our grip on His hand. But still, He holds us. He never moves. He doesn’t let go.
And He never will.

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