My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to jump out from the car and catch her, but I was turning left and it all went down so fast. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
In the midst of my turn and in front of the medical building, a little girl—who looked about three years old—was trying to balance on her braced legs and miniature crutches. Her mom, grabbing something from the back seat, didn’t see her wobbling. Halfway through my turn, she lost her footing and I gasped as I drove by.
I got out of my car and saw mom carrying her into the building. As I reached the elevator, her little arms held mom’s neck and she smiled as the doors slid shut before I could get in.
I took the adjacent elevator and simultaneously we reached the fourth floor. The little toy soldier marched slowly in front of me. I entered the doctor’s office following this larger-than-life spirit who walked with compact crutches.
As I waited to be called into a room, I marveled at this brave tiny trooper who didn’t shed one tear when she fell. Her mother was the key to this courageous baby girl’s steadfast spirit—infusing a sweet mixture of affirming words and silent actions.
As I walked down the hall and into the exam room, I was reminded of how God has sustained the crippled little girl that lives inside me; carrying me up the steep places…holding my hand when I teeter…and teaching me to stand on my own as He whispers, “I’ll be right here for you …in the waiting room—when you get back.”
Yes, I saw God anew—another dimension of His character. Now, not just as omnipotent father and mighty warrior, but with a different kind of strength; devoted…tender…loving…
I witnessed the maternal heart of God.