”Let go of my hand,” I said. ”I can do this on my own. I know the Way.”
Day after day we walked the same Way. I knew the Way by heart. There were no surprises and no adventures on the narrow path. Besides, I saw others making their way without their father. I was restless. I became bored, impatient, and childishly curious.
He smiled without releasing my hand. His grip was firm and gentle. I knew He was leading the Way yet I was not captive. We walked hand in hand from love and habit; He held mine in His in love, and I held His in mine from habit. We were inseparable. No one could pry me from His love nor grip.
I grew stronger, taller, and independent. My confidence swelled under His care. I feared no one. I started to strut.
“No, really,” I insisted. “I can do this on my own. I’ll let you know if I need your help.” My petulance drew the attention of a passerby who asked if the man was bothering me.
I released my Father’s hand.
“Really?” He asked.
“Yeah, really.” I nodded with pride and self-confidence. “I will follow. Go ahead.” I didn’t know how much I hurt Him. How could I know?
“Take care of my mother!” I yelled after Him.
He walked as I balked. I had felt His hand, and seen His back, but I had never seen His face. He walked and talked while I fell behind. I lost sight of Him. I lost sight. I was lost. Lost … and darkness fell.
My adventure began. It was dark.