Last night in the car, we passed a police car. Ty wanted us to pray for the accident, but then we realized that it was simply someone being pulled over. I tried to explain to Ty that there was no accident or ouchies, but that someone had disobeyed and was getting in trouble. I was just going to leave it at that, but then Ty’s little hand shot up, almost as if he had had a revelation. Something was going on in his little brain, but I could not understand what he was saying. He was insistent in his utterance, until I finally realized he was saying, “like sheep we gone astray.” I was blown away. God’s Word really is living and active; Ty is beginning to understand that disobedience keeps us from God. It was such a sweet moment between me and the Lord. I was reminded that apart from the Good Shepherd, we really have no hope. I was broken over how we all keep going astray. So thankful that there are moments when things click with little hearts and big hearts. Ty is no angel, as seen by his pushing a child off the slide about 20 minutes later. But we have hope that he will be transformed into a child of the King!

Last week I came to the realization that my day is filled with little hands: Scraping oatmeal off of Ty’s hands, rubbing peanut butter off of Eli J’s hands, kissing little unseen yet very “hurtie” ouchies, wrestling two small, yet surprisingly strong toddlers to the ground in attempts to cut tiny fingernails, to name a few. It got me thinking about what it might have been like to be Mary holding, cleaning, kissing the tiny hands of her God.

The Hands that Hold the World

Two clinging hands, small enough to miss, Receiving the affection of a mother’s kiss.

The world held in an infant’s hands?

Calloused hands tired, but again picking up the saw, Learning the family trade and submitting to the law.

The world held in a carpenter’s hands?

Confident hands unrolling and reading from the scroll,  Inviting untrained fisherman to try another role.

The world held in a rabbi’s hands?

Trembling hands praying, wrestling with Divine will,  Agonizing in the garden, yet trusting His father still.

The world held in shaking hands?

Lifeless hands hammered to the shameful tree,  Pouring forth the love that covers you and me.

The world held in bleeding hands?

Wounded hands appearing again to doubtful eyes,   Then offering the Holy Spirit and all that He supplies.

The world entrusted to human hands?

Glorified hands reigning and ruling from above,  Praying for the saints below, protecting them in love.

He’s got the whole world in His hands.