“Hand for me?” I looked up at my Dad and his big smile spread across his face as he took my little hand in his much larger one. His hand has always been bigger, warmer, stronger, and has made me feel safe and secure. As I grew up, it became “our thing” when going on a walk, for one of us to ask the other one that question. One of us would lean in and ask the other one, “hand for me?” and the other would smile knowingly and take their offered hand.

Growing up, there were times when holding my Dad’s hand became not only a sweet “hand for me” moment, but also absolutely essential! I can remember on more than one occasion being in a fast moving part of a trout stream, fly fishing with my Dad, when he would tell me to take his hand so he could help me cross the stream safely. Taking my hand in his, he would hold it securely to keep me from getting swept into the deeper or faster moving water. He was keeping himself steady, while also making sure I was safe as we would take careful measure to cross to the other side. He made it look so easy, but I was clinging to his hand for dear life! The water was so much stronger than me, it was fast moving, and often times deep! As we’d carefully cross, he would coach me on where to place my feet, where to place my walking stick, or “third leg” as we’d call it, and to also put my feet where his had been since he’d already made sure those spots were secure. Before long, we’d be in safer, slower moving, more shallow waters and back to our fishing.

My Dad also taught me how to hike up and down steep hills. It sounds silly to some, but if you have ever been hiking on a hill with slippery pine needles or loose rocks, it can be a little exciting to say the least. My Dad, again, would take my hand, but he’d be on the lower part of the hill, so if I slid, he’d catch me. He’d hold my hand and tell me how to step safely so as not to slide. There’s a technique and I still use it today when I hike on hills. It’s as if I can hear his voice in my head telling me where and how to step, and what to look out for as I use tree roots to grab and so forth.

My Dad is turning 90 this month. We no longer fjord fast moving streams together, or hike on steep hills, but it doesn’t change the fact that his hands are still bigger, warmer, and stronger than mine. They still make me feel just as secure. Without realizing it, my Dad taught me how to walk in difficult places. The Lord showed me that the other day.

You see, just as my Dad held my hand in the difficult and even scarier parts of the stream, so does Jesus hold my hand in the scary waters of life, and there have been some. When I feel myself slipping down a steep hill, it’s my Father’s voice that I hear telling me where to step next… just as my Dad would do. God is always positioned to catch me, to hold my hand in His strong, warm, big, and secure one, and to speak strategy to me on where to take my next step.

God showed me something else. Just as I was taught by my Dad how to walk in difficult places, God wants me to help teach others how to walk in difficult places too…to hold their hands and remind them that it’s Jesus who is really the One walking with them.

One day I will be turning 90, and I’m sure I will still remember the warmth of my Dad’s hand, and hear his voice in my head in the difficult times, and be reminded that it’s God who’s holding my hand and asking “Hand for Me?”