The storm has passed

A father and child embarkes on a journey.
"Come child, let me take you on this journey."
"But where are we going?" the child asks.
"You'd see. It's a surprise."
"But I want to know! Papa!"
"Child, it's really a surprise. Trust me."
"I really want to know and I'm not going until you tell me."
"Have I ever disappointed you? Trust me. Just follow me."
The child looks at her father's rough but gentle hands, hands that have gently built her life.
"Ok," as she grips her father's hand as they walk into the forest.

At first the forest scares her. There are dark shadows and the winds howl, sending shivers down her spine. Yet, holding on to father, she starts to enjoy the journey. They pass through shallow grooves and cross small creaks. She begins to enjoy the journey and marvel at the way the sun's patterns cut through random openings of the forest canopy.

Father and daughter walk on. But soon into the journey, her 5 year old mind's attention span begins to waver.

"Father, can we stop here? I need a rest. I want to play with the leaves," she says.
"No child, we have to move on, we really do," he answeres, not inconsiderate to his young daughter's request but aware that the journey has barely begun.
"Please?"
"No."

Sulkingly she prods on with her father. She walks on and forgets her confrontation with her father earlier on as she comes to a stream of water. They stop for a long drink and enjoy the cool water. She understands now why her father wanted to go on. Trust for her father increases and she's simply happy to be travelling with him.

Yet it's not the end of the journey. They move on further through darker woods. Now it's no longer the rustling wind but the haunting howls of wolves that jarr at her ears. Her young legs begin to fail her. She desperately grips at her father's hands. Energy ebbs away and for the moment, she's disappointed in herself for being so young, so weak.

"I'm so tired. I really can't go on anymore. Please tell me where we are going"
Silence from him. She fears she has stung his heart.
"No pa, it's not that I don't trust you, nor that I want to ruin your suprise. It's just that I can't, and if you tell me, then maybe I would muster enough energy to go on."
Silence again.
"Father, if you won't tell me, it's okay too. But rest with me then. My grip is getting weaker."
He looks at her, but speaks no words. She clings even more tightly and begs.
"I know you won't leave me. But there's no way that I can go on now. I'm sorry I'm so weak. I'm sorry I am a disappointment to you. If I could I would. But I really can't. I'm so afraid that if I go on, I wouldn't have even enough energy to hold your hand. I'm afraid that I'd let go of you, my dear father"

An eternity of silence. A desperate child.

Finally he whispers, "Child, I know.
I didn't ask you to journey with me not knowing your strength. I know that this journey is beyond you. And I know that your grip will fail you.
But child, don't you see, I'll still hold you even when you can't."

She noddes but continues, "I know that you'd never disappoint me. But I fear more that I'd be disappointed in you instead. For I do not want to lose you nor feel disappointed in you because your presense means so much to me. I am my worst enemy"

"My child. Trust me. Simply trust me. There are periods of this journey where I want you to grip my hand, to learn to trust me, yet there are also moments where I need you to simply let me grip your hand instead. "

He adds, "It's during these times that no matter how hard you try to hold my hand, it's not your strength that would ensure we are not seperated, but mine."

Cease striving and know that I am God.
Lord, I believe, help me overcome my unbelief.
Save me from myself.
I trust in You, not that my trust would help me grip tighter to you.
But I trust in You, that You'll help me trust in You when I don't trust.*

*(I'm sorry if you had to read until here and see such paradoxical sentences that may not make sense. It's just my train of thought)