I wrote this poem while I was in Honduras this summer. God was (and is) teaching me so much about His nearness to me, and how much easier it is to just let Him carry me… rather than trying to plunge ahead on my own.
Hold me, Jesus.
As a little child,
I look up,
so far up,
at the face of my dad.
We’ve walked so far,
the path stretches farther
than I know.
I don’t think my
stubby little legs
can go any farther.
“Hold me, Daddy!”
I want him to carry me
in his strong arms,
and I wrap my tiny arms
around his neck.
When he’s holding me, the road
doesn’t seem as long,
nor the sun so hot.
And today,
I’m 20.
I’m too big to be carried
by my dad.
My heart,
is tired and hurting,
the day is hot,
the road seems long,
it stretches farther than I know,
and I know that I can’t go any farther on my own.
But my cry is the same:
“Hold me, Daddy!”
He swings me up, and
holds me tightly,
gently,
in His strong arms of peace,
and grace.
The present trials don’t sting as hot,
and the day doesn’t seem so long
when my head is leaning on His chest.
I cling tightly to His Word
and rest,
knowing that my heavenly Dad is holding me.
“He will tend his flock like a shepherd;
He will gather the lambs in his arms;
He will carry them in his bosom,
And gently lead those that are with young.” - Isaiah 40:11
