One little hand, one little touch. It's odd how something so small, so barely felt can change your life. Yet, that's what has happened again. A little hand was laid in mine. Life has been renewed. My life.
Little Philip came into the world with little fanfare, little recognition, little hope. His birth mom must have felt the hopelessness as she saw that little one. Yet, through her sorrow, joy has come my way.
As I hold his hand, I wonder where we will travel together. Will we walk in the woods and stand amazed at the changing leaves? Will we go to concerts and hear the beautiful strains of music that will lift our souls to new heights? Will we travel to the land of Narnia in search of Aslan? Will we see God's handiwork in the nighttime sky or the grandeur of the Grand Canyon? Where will we go, what will we see, what will we do when we get there?
I've walked these trails holding other hands - Bethany, Ben, Paul, and Daniel's. Now, strangely and magically almost, I get the opportunity to walk down the trail again. What a joy. There's nothing more satisfying, more enrapturing than seeing someone experience something for the first time. The joys - first smile, first step, first word read. The sorrows, while not as desirable, still have their wonderment. The first scraped knee to doctor, the first pet to bury, the first heartbreak to comfort. Motherhood is a blessing. It gives us the chance to experience life's firsts over and over again.
Let the journey begin again. Take my hand, Philip. Let's go!
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