Holding Hands -- the universal symbol of belonging.
Somewhere in France today, a little boy has grown into a young man and will soon be planting a thriving church. That’s what I imagine anyway. Let me explain:
More than fifteen years ago, Wendell and I went around the world at Epcot Center in four crazy hours. Spending only four hours at Epcot was both insane and romantic, but that is a story for another post. It rained that day, and we joined a long line of tourists buying yellow rain slickers in the souvenir shops.
Epcot is international in theme and in reality. Everywhere we went, family groups were speaking to one another in languages Wendell and I could not understand. (adding to the romance, of course.) Mickey Mouse rain gear became the great equalizer. We all looked alike, even though we sounded quite different.
At one attraction, Wendell and I got into line with a group of French-speaking families. Eventually, we found ourselves in a small ante-room, waiting our turn for a ride. The lights dimmed, and everyone instinctively grew quiet. In that moment, one little boy reached up and took my hand.
I held my breath and waited for him to realize I didn’t belong to him. Instead, he held tighter.
I squeezed back. Then I prayed. I prayed that the room would stay dark so the little guy wouldn’t look up and realize he was holding hands with a stranger. I prayed that he wouldn’t be frightened. And then I prayed that God would capture his heart. That he would grow up to be a great man of God who would bring Light into darkness and make a real difference in the world.
Then, the doors opened, the little hand pulled away, and the boy was gone with his people.
I’ve thought of him several times through the years. It was only a moment. A tiny connection in a gigantic day. But it felt like destiny.
I pray that it was.
That is beautiful. Oh thank you God for those moments in our lives.
OH! I love this so much! What a beautiful opportunity – and you took it! Awesome story, and I love that you still think of him and wonder. We just never know what God might do, do we?
I can’t WAIT til we get to heaven and find out who he was! The suspense is killing me!
Such a beautiful concept though, impacting strangers and never knowing the outcome on this side of heaven. Reminds me of the Little Old Man on George St.
What a beautiful story.
The suspense is killing me too. It also immediately made me think of Jake and hope in any remotely similar situation he would grab a hand that would care so much about him.
Thanks for all your sweet comments. Especially for sharing my in-a-perfect-world optimism.
That is great. And I agree, how awesome is it that you still remember (or are reminded of) that moment and the soul that went with it. Oh the opportunities that come at us…