Our Choice to Carry
“You are not a burden for having burdens that you are learning to lay down. You are not a failure for not reaching the heights you thought you’d reach by now.”
~ Morgan Harper Nichols
In an earlier reflection, I invited the question: In what areas of your life are you hoping for healing? You may be seeking healing from significant trauma you have experienced. This can feel so foreign and vulnerable to navigate. Or perhaps, there are seemingly smaller instances that have built up over time, causing you to find yourself hurting and confused. Whatever you are facing today, it is real and important to acknowledge.
I’d like to share a mental picture that has helped me navigate the “smaller,” daily instances of hurt or disappointment in my life. I have been surprised at how much freedom and healing this perspective has cultivated, and I hope it may do the same for you.
Picking up bricks. How often do we do this? Find a useless brick. Pick it up. Place it in our backpacks. Then we find another and another. As if our lives aren’t already heavy enough. As if we’re not already worn from walking, let alone carrying. Why do we look for bricks: the conversations, the unmet expectations, the perfectionism, the interactions we just can’t let go of? Why do we choose to carry unnecessary weight? Along our way, we could be picking up flowers: the sweet moments in life. Is it because we see so many others also accumulating bricks on their backs? Is it because we’ve only trained our eyes to notice bricks instead of flowers?
To make it even more complicated, we often blame ourselves or others for the weight we are carrying. We know there is a better way, but we feel too tired, confused, or stressed to open our backpacks and lift the weight from our shoulders. How do we change this pattern?
We are invited to begin with an honest conversation with ourselves, noticing these tendencies. We are not a burden for having burdens we are learning to lay down. Then we decide to take the bricks out of the backpack and bring them out in an open, trusted space. When our arms are too weak to lift them, we may need to ask for help. Then we find the freedom to turn our eyes to the flowers and pause to smell the roses.
