I Wanna Hold Your Hand

I had a moment this past Saturday; a remarkable moment. We inhabit our moments, or minutes, and many of them whiz by us without too much notice. This reminds me of something that happened to my husband recently.

I don’t know about you, but we have fuzzy bunnies creating more fuzzy bunnies in every spare alcove of our neighborhood (get a room, why don’t ya!). We used to view them with interest. We still announce a bunny sighting to each other (a punch bunny), but it doesn’t create the hoopla it used to, because of the sheer number of bunnies we see hoppin’ through the hood.

One Sunday morning, my kids and I were waiting for my hubs in the car. He came around the corner of the garage and, at that exact second, a large white rabbit appeared and kick-boxed him in the face.

Well, I guess you could say, I recently got kicked in the face by a moment. My seven-little-girl-1308230_1280year-old daughter loves to sing, as do I. She’s been taking voice lessons and her first recital was on Saturday. This would be the first time she sang in public, in front of people she didn’t know. She seemed very excited and she was in fine form as far as her voice was concerned.

I styled her hair and she put on her fanciest dress. She was the picture of pretty. We arrived early for the recital to run through our song with the pianist. I say “our song” because once, when she was practicing, I added the harmony and was surprised to find that she was able to keep to the melody for the most part.

This is where the trouble began. The other performers were in the room. Rose wouldn’t even turn toward them. When it was time for her to sing, she could barely squeak out a note. All of a sudden, her voice had become raspy and thin and she complained that her throat was dry. She also had difficulty tracking the accompaniment, because she was used to singing with only the melody playing.

Her voice teacher and I took her into another room, gave her a drink of water, and tried to calm her down. It was decided that she would try singing an octave lower because she could no longer hit the high notes.

We went back into the recital room to find 20 people waiting. There were only three brokenheartperformers and my daughter was scheduled to go on second. When we went up, she turned toward me and held my hands. It was a disarming sight. Her teary eyes were locked on mine, filled with a mixture of fear, disappointment, and sadness. She had lost her confidence. She whispered her song, no longer able to find her part. We two stood together in a roomful of mostly strangers, holding hands, singing quietly to each other, as if no one else was present. She was looking to me for help and reassurance. All I could do was be there for her. It was heartbreaking.

It made me think of God. In the last 10 years I’ve been through some difficult transitions. I’ve been the little girl in the party dress, desperate and hurt, feeling overwhelmed, holding my heavenly father’s hands, my eyes never leaving his kind, compassionate face. Even when I was the cause of my own undoing, he stood in my suffering with me. When the anguish was too much for me to bear, I would remind myself that he loves me and promises never to leave me. He walks with me, even through the fire. It seems like I’m constantly pestering him to hold my hand. He always obliges.

Complete the experience. Listen to Britt Nicole’s All this Time.

Author’s note: This piece was written seven years ago. I’m happy to say my daughter has sung many successful solos since then and God is still holding my hand. 🙂

Posts come out every Monday morning, a poem every third Monday. Scroll down to the bottom of the page to receive notifications of my posts via email. Follow me on Instagram username: pollyeloquent. Thanks for reading. 🙂



2 thoughts on “I Wanna Hold Your Hand

  1. Beautiful writing and beautiful truth. Keep it up. It is a gift from God and all who read. Thanks be to God and Polly. I love you. Mom


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