It never occurred to me, as a new parent, the possibility that holding hands would never end. I realize now, it just changes posture.
Originally, big hand and small hand clasped together, United. Connection. Security. Protection.
But as the smaller hand grew , the strength of the grasp started to lessen. Independence beckoned, as it should. The longing for an extended hand still existed but the posture changed. And the ambiguity of “when” lingers in the air-sometimes in the long distance between us.
Hand holding with big kids looks differently.
Walking them through the consequences of a choice, the sounds of despair becoming muffled cries on the other end of the phone.
Accompanying them to a new, exciting yet anxiety provoking milestone.
Helping them troubleshoot through unexpected circumstances, learning life is not predicable.
Talking them through the process of “adulting” new experiences.
Sitting together in the sound of silence.
The truth is: none of us grow out of needing a hand to hold. It conveys that we are never alone and points to God’s sacred design. Holding hands is holy work.
This post is written for the Five Minute Friday Writing Community. Come join us! https://fiveminutefriday.com/