Two Legs

“My LEGS HURT!” my boy wails and thrashes on the floor.

 

I raise my eyebrows as he looks at me.

 

“I. . .can't. . .walk.”

 

“You can walk,” I nod. “God gave two legs. You are healthy. Now go to your room.”

 

His temper rises and he screams angry at me. “CARRY ME MOMMY! I don't want to walk.”

 

I clench my jaw and feel my shoulder muscles tighten. My heart races. I want to scream too.

 

There in the midst of my meltdown, God whispers. “You want to be carried too.”


At first I try to deny such foolishness, but I know. Sometimes I don't want to use the gifts God gave me. Sometimes writing, teaching, and speaking feel like work. I wonder if God really called me to this because I don't “feel it” some days. So I don't try. I wait until I feel inspired or I give up.

 

On those days I cry and fuss. “God why can't this be easy. Why can't You carry me through my life?”

 

God answers, “I gave you two legs daughter so you could walk while I guide and sustain you. You cannot be all I created you to be if you do not walk.”

 

I sigh and look at my boy flailing on the ground. I wonder, “How can I teach him to walk if I am not willing to walk?”

 

Maybe I just need to take the first step.

 

I nod and silently pray, “Forgive me Father. Help me to persevere and walk with You.”

 

Then I grab my son by the hand, help him to his feet, and we walk hand-in-hand.

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Angela
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