It happened again. Recently I received a phone call that puts dread right in the peaceful spot of my heart; it wasn’t terrible, but a reminder of places we have been before.
It was just another day, a very full, busy day with a night to match it. I felt like I had bent down and picked up an over-sized backpack and strapped it on my shoulders, to carry around in the midst of the chaos, bumping into things and threatening to knock me over. Through the years I have learned to choose my timing when sharing a burden with my guy. It’s not fair to unload on him while he is working, and I knew he had a tough meeting scheduled for late in the evening. I decided to hold onto it, but it was obvious that I was struggling. The backpack gets heavy. He came home and we had a few minutes before the next thing on the calendar, he asked what was going on and in our own language, we had a quick exchange with me assuring him details later. It was as if he had unzipped the pack and moved the contents around, making it easier for me to maneuver.
A few hours later my guy and I were able to really talk, unloading each pocket and removing the load, and then we prayed together, handing it over to God. I would like to say that all the stress and baggage was gone but that combination of events reduced the weight I had been carrying to a the equivalent of a small daypack, nothing that could be forgotten, but manageable. And now he’s carrying the same thing, we’re a couple of day hikers, sharing this journey and the load. We all need someone we trust to help us look at the stuff we have, to remove what we shouldn’t be carrying alone and to help us to walk it out together.
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