“Just you and me, Mommy,” my littlest girl had said while her siblings leaped over the waves in the water and built towering sandcastles in the sand.
“Let’s walk like this–”
She slipped her sandy fingers through mine and tugged at my hand.
I followed her lead and adjusted my long strides to her skipping steps. And together we painted a trail of footprints all along the water’s edge.
When her legs had grown tired and our toes were caked with sand, Maggie dropped my hand and wrapped her arms around my middle.
“Thanks for walking with me, Mommy,” she said. And then with a happy sigh, she added, “Let’s ALWAYS walk together, ok?”
I smiled and nodded and returned her playful squeeze.
But when my littlest girl raced back into the water to play with her big sisters, I had to catch my breath and swallow that uninvited lump of sacred sadness rising in my throat.
Because I know that my daughter won’t always invite me to walk with her. And I’m thankful that, for the moment, her little feet still thrill to my steps.
Maybe that’s why today I dug out this old poem and glued it to the inside cover of my prayer journal. Because I need a daily reminder that I won’t get to walk right beside my children forever. But Jesus will.
And I’m praying that every step I take will point my treasured ones toward Him!