So I Go
It seems like just yesterday that you took those first, wobbly steps, starting out like a newborn foal, balancing precariously on those two new feet.
When did your little feet learn to walk so far?
Learn to jump and dance and beckon me to watch you grow up.
I remember tying your itty-bitty shoelaces and watching them run off and play, your innocent face beaming up at me.
Now I watch as that face forms “I love you” with lips not so different than my own and eyes that gleam with excitement and anticipation.
And so you go,
Off into that adventure that I know you’re ready for, the one God made you for.
With your wide eyes and eager feet, you set out on a brand new expedition for just you and God,
And so you go.
And I remember all those years of bedtime stories you told, even when you were sure I was already asleep.
Tales of parting seas, slingshots and giants, and a miraculous resurrection.
I remember wanting to be just like you when I grow up so I too could take grown-up steps in grown-up shoes.
Now that I’m older, I realize that I’ve got to take my own grown-up steps and trust in the God you introduced me to.
Don’t worry though,
I’ll still come back when I need help tying those big-kid shoes and when I need reminding of who I want to be.
I’ll always say I love you with this mouth that’s not so different from yours and tell you all about these adventures.
So I go.