Hold Me

By: Angela Gillaspie © January 2000

"Hold me," my baby said as his chubby little arms reached up toward me. I picked him up and squeezed him to my chest, loving the hurt from him. He hugged me back tightly as the pain in his bumped leg faded away.

"Hold me," my son cried when his brother refused to share a toy. He curled himself into my lap, pressing his tender face into the hollow of my neck. I buried my nose in his hair, breathing in the perfume of my baby's scent. His hurt ebbed away and his cries became snubs.

"Hold me," my daughter weakly said when the flu raised her fever to over 102°. She is almost as big as I am, but I still pulled her into my lap, tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and kissed her burning forehead. For this moment, she was contented just being in my arms.

"Hold me," I said to my husband when we found out that our baby died inside me. He wrapped his large loving arms around me and held me tight, making me feel as if there was nothing else in this whole world but his love for me. I clung to him not wanting his embrace to end.

"Hold me!" my daughter screamed one night as imaginary monsters chased her in her dreams. She clawed at me and then melted into my open arms as the terror of her dreams were slowly forgotten.

"Hold me," my husband sniffed when our son was wheeled into surgery. Swaying in the hallway, we clung to each other praying for a successful outcome (which happened).

The mere power of being held by a loved one can soothe the tempest of pain and fear.

"Hold me," I pray to God at night. Knowing that I am in the grip of my Creator gives me comfort and recharges my soul making me ready to hold someone again.

Stay tuned for more SouthernAngel devotionals!