Anna started walking today.
If you don't know Anna from my endless stories and posts and pictures, let me introduce you. She is 10 months old. She's the daughter to my best Peruvian friend, Fri (pronounced Free). I watch her for hours every day and we have seriously become inseparable. We live in the same house which means morning and night time snuggles. Her vocabulary includes mama, AHH, and a few screams. She has the cutest a smile of any baby I have ever met. She loves to dance.
And today, she took her hands off the back off our wooden kitchen chair and shakily walked her way over to where I was kneeling on the floor. Five steps. I caught her in my arms on the last one and a grin was spread across her chubby cheeks and I was so dang proud of her. I picked her up and swung her around and kissed her forehead and let out a little shout of excitement because she had finally walked! Two months of watching this girl and she's become like my own.
For the past ten days, I have been trying so hard to get her to walk. I knew she could do it- she was always putting one hand on the wall for balance and walking around the room. She'd cling to some of my fingers and get from one end of the kitchen to the other. She can stand up on her own, squat on he own and navigate her way around the house all by her lonesome. She has the balance, a cute pink pair of shoes and the determination to take the steps. For ten days, I have stood her up, slid back and opened up my arms. Come on, baby girl. I won't let you fall. I kept telling her over and over. Just take that first step. Never, at any time, was I far enough from her that I couldn't catch her. Never, for a split second, would she have hit the floor had she tripped in her attempt to walk on her own. But she didn't know that. She must not have known that, despite my arms being just inches from her. She must not have known it, despite the fact that I have never once let her fall. Because every time I stood her up and slid back and told her to take a step- come on my sweet Anna, just take a step- she wouldn't. She'd keep glancing between her pink shoes and my outstretched arms. Back and forth. Back and forth. You can do it Anna, come on, I chanted for ten days. Back and forth. And then she'd plunk her bum on the ground and crawl the mere two feet separating us.
I'd laugh and pick her up and we'd start the process all over again. In a way, I loved the hours spent trying to get her to walk. In another, I just wanted her to take those steps because I knew she could. Her muscles were strong enough, her balance was good enough, her shoes were tied tight enough and I was there. I was there and there was not a chance she was going to get hurt.
I wonder if that's what it's like with us and God, sometimes. I wonder if He ever feels the way that I have for the past ten days. I wonder if He ever puts a challenge in front of our face- a person to love, a new thing to do, words to speak- and whispers come on, baby girl. I won't let you fall. I wonder if He sits beside us or in front of us and just says that over and over. Just take that first step. I wonder if He wants us to know that never, at any time, would He be far enough from us that He couldn't catch us. I wonder if He so longs for us to know that not for a split second would we hit the floor in our attempt to be brave.
His word says that He is not far from any of us. Yet we must not know it, despite the ink on the pages of the bible. We must not know it despite the fact that He has never once let us fall. I wonder if we glance from the chasm, the challenge, the gap, to God- back and forth, back and forth, back and forth- and then decide to sit down. I wonder how many times God has had His arms literally around us and yet we have let our fear grow so big that we decide it's better to stay on the floor. I wonder how many times we have let our shaky legs get the better of us even though God has never let us smack the concrete before. I wonder how many times we build our own roadblocks and become our own wrecking balls when God is whispering to just take the first step. Just put one foot in front of the other and then do it again and if we dare slip, even but for a single moment, His hands would be clasped around ours and we would not fall.
And, I guess, I wonder how it will feel when we finally just walk. When we take our hands off the back of the chair and realize that God has given us all we need- the muscles, balance and good shoes- to love people, to speak words of truth, to start our own business, to buy those plane tickets. I wonder how it will feel when our shaky legs don't let us down and God never moves His arms and we shuffle our way across the floor. Whether it be one step or five steps or the whole entire room, I bet we'll smile. I bet when we just let go of the chair and trust that God's arms are strong enough to catch us, hold us and carry us, we will let out a little shout of excitement. We will realize that the steps that sometimes make our knees knock together in fear are so much better than plunking our butts on the ground and crawling.
So would you do it? Oh, come on babe. Would you do it? Would you pry those fingers away and just trust what God said? Anna's fear was silly- I was right beside her. I am nineteen years old and strong enough to catch her little body. But to her, it was so real. Ten days of fear kept her from trusting me. Will your fear keep you from trusting Him? Or will you tie your pink shoes and believe that God is not going to let you fall?
You could walk, you know. You could finally, finally, finally get up off the floor and walk.
If you don't know Anna from my endless stories and posts and pictures, let me introduce you. She is 10 months old. She's the daughter to my best Peruvian friend, Fri (pronounced Free). I watch her for hours every day and we have seriously become inseparable. We live in the same house which means morning and night time snuggles. Her vocabulary includes mama, AHH, and a few screams. She has the cutest a smile of any baby I have ever met. She loves to dance.
And today, she took her hands off the back off our wooden kitchen chair and shakily walked her way over to where I was kneeling on the floor. Five steps. I caught her in my arms on the last one and a grin was spread across her chubby cheeks and I was so dang proud of her. I picked her up and swung her around and kissed her forehead and let out a little shout of excitement because she had finally walked! Two months of watching this girl and she's become like my own.
For the past ten days, I have been trying so hard to get her to walk. I knew she could do it- she was always putting one hand on the wall for balance and walking around the room. She'd cling to some of my fingers and get from one end of the kitchen to the other. She can stand up on her own, squat on he own and navigate her way around the house all by her lonesome. She has the balance, a cute pink pair of shoes and the determination to take the steps. For ten days, I have stood her up, slid back and opened up my arms. Come on, baby girl. I won't let you fall. I kept telling her over and over. Just take that first step. Never, at any time, was I far enough from her that I couldn't catch her. Never, for a split second, would she have hit the floor had she tripped in her attempt to walk on her own. But she didn't know that. She must not have known that, despite my arms being just inches from her. She must not have known it, despite the fact that I have never once let her fall. Because every time I stood her up and slid back and told her to take a step- come on my sweet Anna, just take a step- she wouldn't. She'd keep glancing between her pink shoes and my outstretched arms. Back and forth. Back and forth. You can do it Anna, come on, I chanted for ten days. Back and forth. And then she'd plunk her bum on the ground and crawl the mere two feet separating us.
I'd laugh and pick her up and we'd start the process all over again. In a way, I loved the hours spent trying to get her to walk. In another, I just wanted her to take those steps because I knew she could. Her muscles were strong enough, her balance was good enough, her shoes were tied tight enough and I was there. I was there and there was not a chance she was going to get hurt.
I wonder if that's what it's like with us and God, sometimes. I wonder if He ever feels the way that I have for the past ten days. I wonder if He ever puts a challenge in front of our face- a person to love, a new thing to do, words to speak- and whispers come on, baby girl. I won't let you fall. I wonder if He sits beside us or in front of us and just says that over and over. Just take that first step. I wonder if He wants us to know that never, at any time, would He be far enough from us that He couldn't catch us. I wonder if He so longs for us to know that not for a split second would we hit the floor in our attempt to be brave.
His word says that He is not far from any of us. Yet we must not know it, despite the ink on the pages of the bible. We must not know it despite the fact that He has never once let us fall. I wonder if we glance from the chasm, the challenge, the gap, to God- back and forth, back and forth, back and forth- and then decide to sit down. I wonder how many times God has had His arms literally around us and yet we have let our fear grow so big that we decide it's better to stay on the floor. I wonder how many times we have let our shaky legs get the better of us even though God has never let us smack the concrete before. I wonder how many times we build our own roadblocks and become our own wrecking balls when God is whispering to just take the first step. Just put one foot in front of the other and then do it again and if we dare slip, even but for a single moment, His hands would be clasped around ours and we would not fall.
And, I guess, I wonder how it will feel when we finally just walk. When we take our hands off the back of the chair and realize that God has given us all we need- the muscles, balance and good shoes- to love people, to speak words of truth, to start our own business, to buy those plane tickets. I wonder how it will feel when our shaky legs don't let us down and God never moves His arms and we shuffle our way across the floor. Whether it be one step or five steps or the whole entire room, I bet we'll smile. I bet when we just let go of the chair and trust that God's arms are strong enough to catch us, hold us and carry us, we will let out a little shout of excitement. We will realize that the steps that sometimes make our knees knock together in fear are so much better than plunking our butts on the ground and crawling.
So would you do it? Oh, come on babe. Would you do it? Would you pry those fingers away and just trust what God said? Anna's fear was silly- I was right beside her. I am nineteen years old and strong enough to catch her little body. But to her, it was so real. Ten days of fear kept her from trusting me. Will your fear keep you from trusting Him? Or will you tie your pink shoes and believe that God is not going to let you fall?
You could walk, you know. You could finally, finally, finally get up off the floor and walk.