That's the uh, One Blessed Lady definition right there. Forget Webster's dictionary. Y'all have mine. You're so lucky.
When I'm teaching my children or disciplining them in some way (I loathe to admit they ever need disciplining, for you see, I am the perfect mother you're always hearing about. ahem.), I look into their eyes to see if they grasp what I am teaching them.
It's so much more than understanding or acknowledging. Do they accept it? Will they hold onto that with all of their strength and might and perseverance?
I don't. Okay, I don't always.
Sometimes, I feel like that five-year-old looking up at her Father trying to figure out what this all means... what is expected of me... what do I do with this knowledge?
But I try. I try so hard to hold on so tightly, to grasp what I don't understand, to trust.
I grasp His hand, sometimes more as a reflex than as a deliberate choice. But I don't let go. I can't. I couldn't. Where else would I go?
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