Hold Tight.

The day winds down.

There’s been bad news. There’s been bumps.

But under your roof, in your walls.

Hold tight to what’s there.

To the sleeping preschooler as you listen to the alternating, dreamy slumbery breath of first him, then his sister. Curling up in a twin bed and then taking the three tip-toed steps across the room to the other twin bed, the other sweet baby; a tangled mess of lanky limbs and sheets that she wouldn’t want smoothed even if you could. Kiss that disheveled forehead. Hold tight.

To the slightly taller than you, moody, funny preteen down the hall. When he hugs, so big and clumsy, hold tight. He’ll hold tight for a while, too.

To the marriage that you know is steady even on the days that things feel rough. To the arm that loves and clings and protects and works so hard to give you all so much. Hold tight.

To that tiny wave of hope that you feel.

To the knowledge that better day are ahead.

To the belief in kindness and selflessness; the belief in goodness.

To laughter.

To abundant, sufficient grace.

To memories that keep you afloat.

To a Savior who has us when we feel unanchored. He has us, even if we flail, but it’s better to hold tight.

We can’t control the chaos right outside of these walls, but in here, we can choose. Today, I choose to hold on, and to be the last to let go.




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