The summer breeze touches my face as I sit on the patio in a worn out chair. With coffee coursing through my veins and finally a good night’s sleep, I begin to feel alive once more. There have been too many days recently where I’ve felt half alive, barely scratching the surface of all that I am, the multitudes I contain and have to offer.
But today feels different. I’m awake with the possibility of a new day. I’m alive with the birds chirping their morning song, their song much more cheery and lively than mine. I am awakening with the world, the sun of my soul rising up out of darkness as the morning sun begins to paint brushstrokes through the trees.
This summer season has done a number on me. The heat threatens to shrivel me dry and the lack of routine in my life has my brain running a marathon. I’ve been inching toward burnout, as I haven’t trained for a marathon and my Midwest roots long for cooler days. I thrive on consistency, and my life has been anything but. I’ve begged God for peace, routine, and calm, but my marathon life continues to spiral around me.
I put pressure on myself to create and serve and write words worthy of reading, but if I can’t even grasp hold of my life happening around me, how can I do any of those things well? I know that God is working—my trust in him is deepening in this season—but why do I feel so burned out?
“You’re carrying too much, child.”
I know God means well with these words because he always intends good things for me, but he’s the one who gave me all of these things to carry… right?
He gave me this writing platform and audience and a talent for words to steward well, but He didn’t give me the pressure I carry with me to perform and grow my audience. He didn’t give me the guilt I place on myself when I feel like I’m not able to show up enough in this space.
God gave me a job where I can serve children in need and use my writing and graphic design skills, but he didn’t give me the insecurity I feel about not fitting in or doing enough.
God gave me my son to parent and nurture, but he didn’t give me the shame I feel when I make mistakes or the feelings of lack I often carry in motherhood.
He gave me an amazing internship for an author I admire, but he didn’t give me the feeling that I’m undeserving or a total imposter in that space.
God gives us good things to carry, but too often we carry our brokenness with us on our backs. They weigh us down and will break us. I’ve been living under the weight of unfair expectations and insecurity in this season, and it’s killing me.
This morning on the patio with the sun’s rays beginning to color rainbows along the grass, I feel a sense of release from the things I carry. Good things only speaks to my soul. God is right; I am carrying way too much—way too much of the things he never intended for me to carry.
As I arise within this new day, I will remember that God has given me much to carry, but none of those things are intended to harm me. The weight I carry isn’t from God. My marathon life isn’t God’s will for me. I will get back to the roots of my calling and assignment, and give the rest to God. And I’ll feel free for the first time in too long.
Thank you for reading this essay. I’ve been in a writing slump the last few weeks, as life continues to be overwhelming. I’m grateful for small blips of inspiration such as this one.