With Father’s Day less than two weeks away, my thoughts drift back to one of my favorite childhood memories of my daddy.
I had fallen and cut my knee open on a gravel driveway. Today, the injury would probably warrant stitches but our family had no insurance and little money for a doctor’s visit. So, as was common in those days, Mother cleaned and bandaged the wound, and I was instructed to keep the leg straight. Bending the knee would open it up and start it bleeding again.
As you can imagine, walking with a straight leg was not easy for a six-year-old. But a few days later, the Bookmobile was due at the end of our road. I always loved books and looked forward to the regular treat of borrowing some new books. Usually, my older brothers and sister and I made the mile or so walk together–more or less. I’m sure they didn’t relish the idea of waiting for a “baby” sister who couldn’t keep up.
That time, Daddy took time from his work to walk with me. He held my hand to support me and help me balance as I limped down the dusty road. I felt secure and happy as I returned my books and picked out different ones.
What a demonstration Daddy gave me that day of my heavenly Father. No matter what wounds I’m dealing with, God is always there, walking beside me, holding my hand and helping me to balance. In Him, I find security and joy.
You reveal the path of life to me; in Your presence is abundant joy (Psalm 16:11, HCSB).