I watched the mother carry her young daughter down the sidewalk. The little girl’s legs were wrapped around her mother’s waist; pink leggings and white tennis shoes dangling in complete relaxation. Her tiny soft arms curled around her mother’s neck while her chin rested on the strong shoulder of the one who had carried her since conception.
It was a picture of strength and relaxation.
I want someone to carry me like that.
Today it would feel good to not be responsible, to not make decisions. I don’t want to be the adult—I want to be the child. I want someone else—someone strong—to carry me.
It would feel good to relax.
Dear Lord, would you carry me for a little awhile? Would you let me just dangle my feet and breathe deeply while I find strength in your arms?
And would you please keep reminding me that this is what it means to be your child?