Daddy’s Hand

As I write, I’m under a constant barrage of thoughts and ideas. This is much more a boon than a bane, giving me a plethora of notions to choose from for the short story, novel or whatever I happen to be penning at the time.

Occasionally, I’ll be blessed with a scenario, given to me for my comfort and enjoyment. I’d like to share with you the latest.

I’m just a little fella, not much more than a toddler, toddling down a dirt road. I’m barefoot, wearing khaki pants rolled up to my ankles. A tee shirt completes my ensemble. I am seen from the back moving as fast as my little legs will carry me. Laughter can be heard, cheerfully flowing from my mouth as I enjoy this romp down the dirt road.

My run comes to an abrupt halt with my feet tripping over one another sending me to the ground, a startled expression crossing my face.

Two hands reach down, pick me up and set me back on my feet. Once I see my benefactor, I squeal for joy. My Father God brushes the dirt from the front of my clothes, turns me around and does the same on my back. He kisses the top of my head, points me in the direction he wants me to go, and then lovingly pats my bottom, sending me on my way.

He watches over me through my entire life, picking me up, dusting me off and offering his guidance. I grow to know his son during my travels and experience a more abundant life until the dirt road ends. It’s then I begin to enjoy an unbelievable retirement plan.

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2 Comments

Filed under On writing

2 responses to “Daddy’s Hand

  1. Wanda S Spencer

    You being the husband of a dear friend of mine, I believe our Father God has lead you down a path that has brought divine wisdom and much Patience, May God bless you and pick picking you up along the way. Wanda Sigmon Spencer

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