My earliest memories were of that sweet farm we lived on. Open windows in the summer. Bullfrogs croaking. Lightning bugs. Summer thunderstorms. Fall and dried corn. Fields plowed in the spring.

For the first six years of my life I had no siblings. My crib was in Mama and Dad’s bedroom. Our home was small then. It only had two bedrooms so the second room was for guests only.

Our bedtime ritual was prayers first and then “Good Nights”. “Now I lay me down to sleep…” and The Lord’s Prayer in that order.

My crib was close enough to their bed that my Dad could reach my crib. After saying prayers, I would always say,”Hold ‘er by the hand”. My poor Dad. He always reached over and held my hand until I was asleep. I’m sure there were nights he thought his arm would break. But as patient as could be…he always held my hand.

Bedtime darkness was never scary when he held my hand.

Our Heavenly Father holds our hand… When our hearts are broken… When we are lonely… When we are betrayed… Whenever we cry out to Him. Even on the happy days when we reach out and take His hand just for the joy of it. He is faithful. He never changes. His arm never tires as He reaches to take our hand.

Reach out…Walk life’s road with the One who is Love holding your hand…