Open Hands

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We rode the ferry at the beach this spring.  As I looked over the edge at the waves, I found myself clenching my fists.  The fear: that somehow my wedding ring might slip off.  If I think of different places I could possibly lose my ring, most of those places would prove recoverable.  In the middle of the ocean, though, I kinda doubt I would ever see my gold band again.  So, I clenched my fists just to make sure.  It hit me that I often do that with our boys.  I try to hold them so tightly in my hands.  There are so many fears I have for them; so many things that could go wrong.  Plus, the idea of them growing up is almost too hard to bear, so I hold them even tighter.  Today I remembered that our Father “holds us in the palms of His hands.”  Instead of clenching my hands and heart around them so tightly, I need to be lifting their names to the Father.  He has promised to hold his children, and I’m confident He will do a better job than me.

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