As we stepped onto the footbridge, my dad bent down, swooped me up by my waist, and placed me up on the raised edge. I nervously gripped onto his shoulders as I found my footing on the wide, stone rim. Once I was steady, he took my small left hand into his large right hand, and started across the bridge.
I did not want to walk the rim--but another desire ran deeper, stronger: I did not want to disappoint my dad. I wanted to be the brave daughter that he believed me to be. And so I smiled, lifted my head, and carefully put one foot in front of the other.
But I wasn't brave! My heart was racing, my legs were shaking, and with each wobble I gripped his hand more tightly. Should I keep going? Did he know how high I was? Did he see the water below? Stealing a glance at his face out of the corner of my eye, I saw the he had not a care in the world. Didn't he care if I fell?
Oh yes, my father cared! But he wasn't worried because he knew his own strength. I realize now that he wasn't asking for me to be brave, he was simply asking me to trust in him. For me--they were one in the same.
My dad, my dear sweet dad, taught me how to trust in the strength of one who is greater than myself, and then he directed my affections toward a heavenly father who is always able to keep me from falling. Real bravery is knowing that I am weak, but believing in the one who strong.
I did not want to walk the rim--but another desire ran deeper, stronger: I did not want to disappoint my dad. I wanted to be the brave daughter that he believed me to be. And so I smiled, lifted my head, and carefully put one foot in front of the other.
But I wasn't brave! My heart was racing, my legs were shaking, and with each wobble I gripped his hand more tightly. Should I keep going? Did he know how high I was? Did he see the water below? Stealing a glance at his face out of the corner of my eye, I saw the he had not a care in the world. Didn't he care if I fell?
Oh yes, my father cared! But he wasn't worried because he knew his own strength. I realize now that he wasn't asking for me to be brave, he was simply asking me to trust in him. For me--they were one in the same.
My dad, my dear sweet dad, taught me how to trust in the strength of one who is greater than myself, and then he directed my affections toward a heavenly father who is always able to keep me from falling. Real bravery is knowing that I am weak, but believing in the one who strong.
This so reminds me of how my earthly father directed me to an unwavering trust in my Heavenly Father. You are so right to say "Real bravery is knowing that I am weak, but believing in the one who is strong." Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteA good dad is such a gift! Glad you had one, too, April!
DeleteSuch a beautiful post.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Denise.
DeleteYour words brought such a big smile to my face as I think of all the times my own daddy took my hand to teach me how to trust.
ReplyDeleteAren't godly dads grand?!?! SO glad that you had one, too!
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