I’m anxious. I worry.
The only thing I have grown to trust is not trusting in anything.
I don’t put faith in people, myself or God Himself.
The only hope I have is knowing I can close my eyes at night and dream of better days.
…..and then it comes. The calming hand of my Father.
My Father’s hands are strong like an oak tree.
My Father’s hands are gentle as a sunset.
They are caring as a nun, warm like a white sand beach, and rugged as a mountain pass.
My Father has hands that discipline out of perfect love, hands that hold out of perfect forgiveness. The same hands that formed the universe in existence, reaches out to me, his son, for affection and care.
His hands validate me, they provide for me and they calm me.
When I feel like I cannot make it in this life of turmoil, sin and temptation – I reach for them.
I reach for the calming hands of my Father.