Baby Steps
The first steps are always the hardest.
One foot, tiny chubby toes grip wood and push up. Then the other. And then standing.
So much work, so much fighting and struggling to finally get the small boy body upright and then...
step, step, feet in a flurry of steps until ....
a padded bottom hits the floor again.
He giggles, and up he goes again pushing against the wood planks. Pushing up, up, knees bent as if
he might take off, soar suddenly into the air, fly instead of walk.
But he doesn't. He falls. Again.
Again he gets up. Struggles for balance, teetering precariously. Down again.
And watching this I think, "Does he know it will happen?"
Does he know that one day he will walk and the struggle of this will be over?
This thing that sometimes seems so impossible, will become second nature, without thinking or trying these baby steps will become a run, a glorious dance.
Watching this boy-one, sixth child of mine, do this same stumbling cadence again and again, I have no
fears for him. I know that these steps will one day become a walk, become a run, become a part of
him that he never has to struggle to obtain, he just does.
And I think, "Is this how my Heavenly Father sees me?"
In this walk of grace I fall down so many times.
I take one baby step, I push up hard on plank floors to stand, only to lose my balance again and fall hard.
Up again, remembering I am held in His arms, only to forget that He is there, arms outstretched
reaching for me.
Calling me to step out, one tiny baby step at a time toward His arms of love
waiting to embrace me.
Arms that bear the marks of love for me. A life laid down.
I fall.
Over and over again until it seems that I will never learn how to walk this walk of love and grace.
I fall hard into the heaviness of law, broken by it's weight and I wonder if I will ever get it right.
But my Father..
He has no fear.
His love knows no fear, it knows no bounds.
His nail scarred hands lift me up again and again to stand in His grace.
And then I remember. This thing of grace isn't about me getting it right. I never will.
It's about Him getting it right, because He can't be wrong.
And in the remembering I look into those eyes of love calling me forward, Always Forward,
and I run.
Turning I see the path behind, that little feet have trod. That when I wasn't even trying, I walked into those arms of love.
Transfixed by those eyes of love that see all my ugliness and yet love me.
Oh what grace.
Because it's not when we try that we finally learn to walk, it's when we look ahead into those eyes
of love and captivated, without even thinking, feet move.
And then we look back and see that all the way He was there, arms outstretched.
And then I see my own boy child, standing. Arms outstretched toward mine, eyes looking into my
eyes of love for him and suddenly
he walks, looking as if he might fly.
One foot, tiny chubby toes grip wood and push up. Then the other. And then standing.
So much work, so much fighting and struggling to finally get the small boy body upright and then...
step, step, feet in a flurry of steps until ....
a padded bottom hits the floor again.
He giggles, and up he goes again pushing against the wood planks. Pushing up, up, knees bent as if
he might take off, soar suddenly into the air, fly instead of walk.
But he doesn't. He falls. Again.
Again he gets up. Struggles for balance, teetering precariously. Down again.
And watching this I think, "Does he know it will happen?"
Does he know that one day he will walk and the struggle of this will be over?
This thing that sometimes seems so impossible, will become second nature, without thinking or trying these baby steps will become a run, a glorious dance.
Watching this boy-one, sixth child of mine, do this same stumbling cadence again and again, I have no
fears for him. I know that these steps will one day become a walk, become a run, become a part of
him that he never has to struggle to obtain, he just does.
And I think, "Is this how my Heavenly Father sees me?"
In this walk of grace I fall down so many times.
I take one baby step, I push up hard on plank floors to stand, only to lose my balance again and fall hard.
Up again, remembering I am held in His arms, only to forget that He is there, arms outstretched
reaching for me.
Calling me to step out, one tiny baby step at a time toward His arms of love
waiting to embrace me.
Arms that bear the marks of love for me. A life laid down.
I fall.
Over and over again until it seems that I will never learn how to walk this walk of love and grace.
I fall hard into the heaviness of law, broken by it's weight and I wonder if I will ever get it right.
But my Father..
He has no fear.
His love knows no fear, it knows no bounds.
His nail scarred hands lift me up again and again to stand in His grace.
And then I remember. This thing of grace isn't about me getting it right. I never will.
It's about Him getting it right, because He can't be wrong.
And in the remembering I look into those eyes of love calling me forward, Always Forward,
and I run.
Turning I see the path behind, that little feet have trod. That when I wasn't even trying, I walked into those arms of love.
Transfixed by those eyes of love that see all my ugliness and yet love me.
Oh what grace.
Because it's not when we try that we finally learn to walk, it's when we look ahead into those eyes
of love and captivated, without even thinking, feet move.
And then we look back and see that all the way He was there, arms outstretched.
And then I see my own boy child, standing. Arms outstretched toward mine, eyes looking into my
eyes of love for him and suddenly
he walks, looking as if he might fly.
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