On my Dad's Shoulders



The crowds are thick around me and there's all kinds of noise.  I have a fear of getting lost among the legs in the crowd. In a panic I reach out to hold my dad's hand, relieved to find him within reach. When I want to go my way and feel him pulling back, I yield and follow because I don't want to get lost. There's safety in hanging on tight and walking with him but my legs seem to get tired,  trying to keep up. Maybe there's a better way.

If I were to jump into his arms and have him hoist me up on his shoulders, I would be above the crowds. It would be scary getting up there and I'd have to hang on extra tight (especially at first) but I could see what he sees.  I wouldn't have to worry about what step to take next because he would be doing all the walking.Who knows where he might  take me next?

There's exhilaration in letting go of walking my way and riding on his shoulders.  Now I can whisper in his ear and know that he hears what I want to say.  I feel his love in his quick willingness to lift me up.  Gradually as I learn to trust that he won't drop me, I release my vice grip and hang on with a joyful abandonment fueled by love.







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