Hand in Hand

Don strode forward across the cliff path, hand-in-hand with 3-year-old Gregor, who trotted along, two steps to his granddad’s every one. They must have walked half a mile or more when suddenly wee Greg broke away and came back to Daddy. His face creased and grew wet with tears as he sobbed out, ‘Daddy, I’m tired!’

He had been doing so well. No complaints; happy to be hand-in-hand with his buddy, his granddad. But his little legs weren’t quite up to the demands and his will gave way to the reality.

We’d been trailing them, chuckling at the cute picture they made and marvelling at Greg’s grit and stamina, his desire to keep up.

If he’d complained earlier, I’m sure the pace would have slowed. But he didn’t.

For me, the walking partner is usually myself, metaphorically speaking. I step away briskly, a huge To Do list and a mistaken belief that I can get through it all. I want to keep going at a brisk pace. I want to do it all.

Maybe I used to do it all.

Eventually, I realise just how tired I am. That’s when I find the One who never leaves me has, indeed, not left me. He might let me lean on him. He might have to pick me up.

This year, the year of vision and hope, 2020, I intend to try to pace myself. Or, rather, I intend to try to discern the pace Jesus is setting, and keep in step with him.

May we all keep pace with Jesus, and not the rat-race world in which we live.