I am a small child. The world around me is in chaos. I cannot make sense of anything I see, because I can't see -it's so dark and void of color. Fog and dust and debris are swirling madly around me, and my hair whips about my face and eyes. What is ahead of me? What's behind? I can't tell. Frightening noises assault my ears, and I don't know where the sounds are coming from. They're like nothing I've ever heard before. I want to curl up in a ball and hide or run far away, but I can't.
I notice that a grown-up is holding my hand, high above my head. It's my Abba, and if I look at Him, I'm able to tune out the crazy scene around me. I realize that I'm oddly safe amid complete chaos. I look to my surroundings again and become gripped with fear, because I know that no one could survive in this environment. But then I feel that sure and strong hand around mine, and I know that as long as I'm walking hand in hand with Him, none of it can touch me.
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