Pull My Finger

Last Sunday I was visiting with a lady before church and there were two ladies standing behind her. There was also one to my right and one to my left. The sweet one I was in conversation with didn't seem to want to stop talking, so I grabbed the hands of the ones standing on both sides. I wanted them to know they were important to me even though I couldn't talk right then. So I was standing there, deep in listening mode, with two hands holding on to both of my index fingers.

This morning one-year-old Austin grabbed my finger to walk with him into the kitchen because he was hungry. His little bitty hand felt completely different than those sweet ladies, but his need was just as great.

Today I felt a real need to grab the finger of my Jesus. To walk and talk and cry a little. I miss my kids. I need some sleep. I need to spend more time with my girls - just us. I need to wash my van and hang up my clothes that are hanging on the back of my chair. I need Him to tell me it will all be okay, to hang in there. I need to just sit with Him and talk with Him and be quiet with Him. And not turn loose.