He touched her hand…
~Matthew 8:15

“Rock me, Grandma,” Bella asked, her brown eyes full of love as we played in her room. “I want to go nigh-nigh.” I turned off the light and lifted her up into my lap and let her drape her small weight against my chest. She moved her hand around as if searching for something. When she found my hand, she curled her fingers around it and held it.

I rocked her until she eased into sleep’s embrace. Gently, I took my hand away from hers and lifted her into her bed. I pulled the covers up around her and stroked her soft curls and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, Sweet One,” I whispered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“God, I’m like Bella,” I thought to myself. “I want your hand to hold at the end of my busy day.”

“Climb into my lap, anytime. I’ll hold your hand and rock you,” God answered softly.  “No matter how old you become, you will always be my child.”

“Thank you,” I said and tiptoed out of the room and closed the door.

 

 

 

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