The old saying goes “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.”
My hand has rocked many a proverbial cradle, and –while I certainly have no ulterior motives of world domination– I can see my hand shaping the future of these little lives.
That I, this frail and fallen woman, should have the power to shape and mold the lives– and even the eternal souls –of these little ones is a powerfully humbling thought indeed.
When I consider that the influence of my smallest word and action has the power to lift or crush, to encourage or discourage, that I affect the course of a child’s life, the weight of it seems too much, too great a responsibility.
I, in my own wisdom, am not equal to this task. I am keenly aware of my own feebleness, my own lack, my all-too-often selfish motives.
And it drives me to my knees, begging the Father of All to guide my heart, my hands, and my words.
The hand that rocks the cradle should first be humbly folded in prayer.
(From a Facebook post in April 2013)