Monday, August 01, 2005


'you remember the times your father carried you, when you walked with him on the hills."

"Yes mother," I said.

"You were scared to jump from one rock to another, and dad used to just stoop down, pick you up and step over."

"It wasn't just the mountains ma," I said, "It was also at the railway station."

I was afraid to go over the footbridge, because the wooden planks which made up the bridge floor had cracks through which I could see the engines below. Evil monsters that breathed fire and blew smoke up through the crevices onto me.

I put down the phone and thought of dad, of his strong arms that so easily carried and lifted me over places I was scared to step over. My thoughts went to the lovely poem, 'Footprints', in which the man in the poem looks back over the years and sees a pair of footprints which he knows is that of God and himself walking next to each other.

"And what about those footprints, which are alone?" asks the man of God, "Did you leave me then?"

"No," says God, "that is when I carried you,"

What a beautiful thought .God carrying us:

When we are sick. When we have no strength left in our bodies. When we have given up. When we cling to the edge of a precipice and are frightened by what we see when we look down.

There is a lovely story of a mother eagle that had built her nest on a ledge of rock jutting precariously over a steep and dangerous precipice.

Soaring through the air one day, returning to her nest, she was startled by what she saw. Clinging desperately to the jagged edge of a rock at the top of the canyon was her baby eagle, struggling with all its might to prevent a fall that was sure to crush its body more than a thousand feet below.

Unable to get to the ledge before her little one could fall, the mother eagle, with the speed of lighting, swooped low beneath the jutting rock, spread her strong wings to break the fall of her darling and with her precious cargo clinging to the feathers of her mighty wings glided safely to the canyon's floor.

Carried by its mother's wings, the little one lived.

So also is our heavenly father, waiting to lift us up, and break our fall.

I am sure there are many of us, in situations where we are afraid to cross something fearful and difficult.

Wait for God to take you across.

I am sure there many who are clinging to some jagged rock, knowing that your strength is waning. Let Go and let God pick you up and put you down safely on solid ground.

My father is no more there to lift me across the rough patches of hills and rocks and over the bridges at stations, but I know that the Father he has gone up to be with has muscles that will continue to effortlessly do the same work.

He is there for you too my friend..!

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