His stretching four-year-old frame climbs into his seat. Damp hands reach out to find mine. Shock sweeps passed as I realize I didn’t have to remind him today.
I don’t recall holding hands at the dinner table growing up. We prayed, but I don’t remember the hand holding. Not sure how we instigated it here, but I like it. The symbolism of joining together, praying in agreement. The removal of temptation to grab food before we’re done.
Yes, I enjoy this moment each day.
Normally, my husband will pray first followed by my son if he feels so inclined. Not today. My son began before my hubby could even bow his head.
“Dear Jesus, thank You for this day. Thank You for this food.
Thank You that Dad made it home safely.
Please, Jesus, help me to not fall down so much on my bike.
I just want to ride…”
I open my left eye slightly and meet my husband doing the same. With one half glance I know. His heart is bursting, too. With pride in seeing our son pray so earnestly. With joy as we try not to laugh. With hurt as we hear how his preschool heart is troubled….
Friends, I’m sharing the rest of this over at my second home:
5 Minutes for Faith.
Would you join me there?
Just click on the button below to hear how God used this moment to speak to me.
Thanks for sharing your time with me.