After traveling the interstate from Texas to Florida, we approached the waiting line for one of our favorite rides at Disney World.
My youngest daughter had injured her knee, so we’d rented a wheelchair. Thoroughly excited to help her little sister, my oldest daughter pushed the wheelchair to the wait line. And baby sister hobbled out to wait.
Who is that? What’s going on?
Our attention was totally captured.
Off to the left, a lady, cute as a button, sat in a wheelchair, her long brown hair hung down her shoulders, her legs clearly useless. And her husband busied himself around her. Then he gently and purposefully moved in front of her, bent, and proceeded to pick her up in his arms. As she dangled helplessly in his strong arms, he carried her … he carried her to the ride.
My heart broke into a thousand pieces. And those thousand pieces melted on the cold, heavily trampled ground. And then those pieces rose and pulled together to form two hands … and those hands clapped. What love! I thought. My breath caught.
What a man! Oh, how I loved him instantly … for his strength, his patience, his endurance, his love, his kindness, his mercy.
As the girls and I proceeded to the line, tears pricked my eyes.
My oldest daughter touched my back gently. I turned. “Mom, you’re crying,” she said.
I smiled. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Mom, I love you.”
“He carried her.”
“Mom … I love you.”
That precious man’s actions—something he’d probably done a million times—touched my heart. The beauty of it. And his touching of my heart dominoed, touching my daughter’s with the gentlest of fingertips.
Who is that?
I’m so crippled, y’all. I have so much baggage from childhood, from things dropped on me and then from my own heart-breaking crippling choices.
The dominoes fall, and fall, and fall. Blackened, spotted ivory piece after ivory piece.
But God loves me. He sticks by my side. He moves in front of me gently and purposefully. He takes me everywhere I need to go … places I never dreamed I’d go. He takes me where He wants me to go. And as I wait on Him, He bends down, picks me up, and carries me on this amazing ride called Life.
I don’t deserve the ride. I deserve to sit on the sidelines, only able to watch. And even that is more than I deserve. I deserve nothing.
But He is merciful, and beautiful, and kind.
And as I live with a reserve of grateful tears, overwhelmed by His love, my girls see. They witness it all.
And when they say, “Mom, I love you” … I know they love my whole package. They know my whole package. Me. All my rights, all my wrongs, all my attempts, all me.
But more importantly, they love and admire He who carries me. They see Him. They see His every move. They see me dangling helplessly in His strong arms. And they believe He’s the most attractive thing in the universe.
And they lift their sweet arms …
They reach for their dream come true.
from on high and took hold of me; drew me out of deep waters. –Psalm 18:16
Have you witnessed something so beautiful? Beautiful humanity. Something that took your breath? That brought instant tears? Would you care to share? What about your own experience? Do you have a sweet story of lifting your arms to Him?