He’s Holding the Dollies

I woke up recently, feeling burdened with the needs someone had shared with me, wanting to help. Not knowing how. Feeling my own limitations of weariness and caring for three little kids and whatever I do not being enough. Soon another friend came to mind, obviously still blind to the truth of the gospel. . . Then Daddy reminded me that I’m His little girl, and I don’t have to understand. Not right now. He holds out His hands for me to hand Him each dolly I’ve been so worried about. Because when I try to hold them all, they keep slipping out of my arms. I can’t fix any of their rips and stains. So, one by one, I place each dolly in His hands–the grown-up dollies, the dollies that are my children, the sister-dolly, my husband-dolly. He never drops one. And He still has room to lift me onto His lap and hold me. When I crawl down again, He offers the hand of one of the dollies He wants me to hold for the moment and shows me that He’s holding the dolly’s other hand. And then He leads us where we need to go. (See Psalm 68:19, Ps. 55:22)

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