The past few hours have been a flurry of activity: I’ve picked up my daughter Zoey from church camp early, taken her to her annual doctor’s visit before school starts up again, visited the library to celebrate a successful check-up, filled my tank up with gas, quickly stopped at the grocery store for some last minute items for dinner, and lastly, navigated our way home through what seemed to be an endless amount of traffic.
When we finally pull into our basement parking garage, it’s late—6:03, to be exact—and almost all of the parking spots are taken. After driving around for a few minutes, I find an empty one tucked way back in a corner and carefully pull into the tight space that’s just barely big enough for my car to fit into.
I look down at the passenger seat, taking stock of everything I need to carry upstairs. Aside from my already heavy messenger bag—the one that I carry my life around in every day along with my laptop—there’s groceries and library books and paperwork from the doctor and a pile of Zoey’s artwork that she made at camp and water bottles and, and, and… And my tiredness, I think. Along with all of that other stuff, I have to try to carry my tiredness upstairs, too.
I start feeling overwhelmed and my chest begins to tighten. I try to take a deep breath, but I can’t. Because while it seems like everything else in the world is here in the car with us, air is nowhere to be found.
* * *
We all have those days.
I’m sure you know the kind I’m talking about—they are the days you wake up feeling just a little bit off, and then, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to shake it. But then you go to bed at night, telling yourself that tomorrow will be a better day, and when you wake up the next morning, you smile because you were right: You feel like yourself, refreshed and ready to tackle the day, and you breathe a sigh of relief.
Although I’ve been known to have days like this, for the most part, they are few and far between. But this week was different.
Last weekend, in an effort to try to hit a reset button in the busyness of our lives, Zoey and I had a lazy day. At the time, taking a day to do nothing seemed to be just what I needed. But then a new week started, and things started piling up again. Deadlines loomed. Pressure built. Perfection was demanded. Time started slipping away, and then, slowly, it started running out. Heaviness settled in.
Every night, I went to bed thinking in the morning I would feel better, but when the sun came up the next day, that heaviness was still there. Every single morning was like this: me, waking up exhausted, with a low, dull ache tugging in my chest, one that made it hard to breathe and kept me feeling like I was always on the verge of tears. As I went about my week, I kept feeling like this, and, on top of all of that, there was the issue of my heart: It felt a little numb, and frankly, that scared me to death.
* * *
“Mommy, wait!”
I have consolidated everything from the car in as few bags as possible and achieved (at least what I feel to be) the perfect balance so that we can get upstairs in one trip. I’m starting to walk away from the car when Zoey’s voice echoes in the concrete basement.
I turn to look at her, but she isn’t even looking at me. Zoey is leaning down into the backseat of the car, and after I watch her reach under the driver’s seat, she turns around and holds out her hands, which are curled into two tiny, little fists.
“Look!” Zoey exclaims. She opens her fingers wide to reveal two rocks, one in each hand. The one on the left is larger and dark gray. It has sharp, jutting angles that make it almost look angry. The right one is completely different: smaller and smooth, it is a soft, creamy white. “I saw these under your seat when we were on the way to the doctor. I forgot I put them in the car the other day after we went to the park.”
“I’m going to leave this one in the car,” she continues, raising her hand that holds the dark rock. Zoey turns around and climbs back into the car to gently set it in the cup holder of her booster seat before shutting the door and walking up beside me.
Although everything I’m carrying is heavy in my arms and all I want to do is to get upstairs so I can set it all down, my curiosity gets the better of me. I tip my chin in the direction of her hand, the one that proudly displays the white stone.
“What made you choose to keep that one?” I ask.
Zoey doesn’t answer right away, but she is staring at me so intently with her piercing blue eyes that it momentarily catches me off guard. I stare back at her, half expecting some sort of pearl of wisdom to roll off the tip of her lips, and then, of course, because she is Zoey, it actually does:
“That’s easy, Mommy. The other rock was sharp, and it hurt my hand a little bit when I picked it up. But this one,” she says, holding up the stone with her thumb and forefinger, “This one doesn’t hurt at all. Shouldn’t you always choose the things that are easier to carry?”
Suddenly, with her words—words that seem to get right to the heart of what I’ve been feeling all week—my heart comes back to life. It starts beating so hard and fast I can feel it pulsing in my temple. I slowly kneel down next to Zoey and let everything I’m carrying slide down my arms and onto the floor of that parking garage.
And then, for reasons unbeknownst to Zoey—and perhaps even myself—I wrap my arms around her and begin to cry. It is a raw, hard, painful cry, one that finally—and blessedly—starts forcing my lungs to start taking in the air they have been missing all week long.
* * *
It’s late, and I’m laying in the dark, holding Zoey’s smooth, white stone, as the words she spoke earlier play on repeat in my head:
Choose the things that are easier to carry…
There are so many heavy things that I carry around with me every day, things that I’ve been carrying around for years, things that I’ve had such a hard time casting aside or setting down and walking away from. They are things that sometimes hurt my heart, and not in very good ways:
I think I can do it all… I never think that I am enough… I am impatient with myself… I don’t ever ask for help… I put a crushing amount of pressure on myself to be perfect… I sometimes run myself ragged trying provide everything and be everything I possibly can for my daughter and the other people in my life that I love so dearly… I don’t ever want to feel like I’m failing anyone, least of all myself…
On top of these things, I carry some unhappy memories and painful parts of my past. There are also the walls I’ve built up around my heart, the ones that I think will still protect me from getting hurt anymore somehow. And some days, I also carry around a sad cocktail of anger, resentment, and a little bit of impatience with where I am in my life and why I am here in the first place.
These are my sharp, jagged, heavy rocks, the ones that hurt my hands and the ones that sometimes hurt my heart.
Yet right now, as I lay in the quiet, with Zoey’s stone gently nestled on my palm, I have a moment of clarity: Perhaps beauty and grace can be found even if I recognize and acknowledge that the weight of all these things—these things I’ve been choosing to carry—are far too heavy for one person to bear. In this moment, I am finally able to find beauty in the graceful realization that I can only do so much.
But I also realize that I am the only one who can control these things, and that it is up to me to choose to carry something lighter—something easier—for once and for all. It seems that the weight of what I choose to carry is completely in my own hands.
* * *
* * *
In the morning, I’m no longer holding the stone; it lays next to me, just out of my reach, nestled safe in the mess of my covers.
I take a deep breath, set my feet on the floor, and rise to meet the day. I get ready for work and slide Zoey’s stone into one of my bag’s pockets, and then sit for a minute and drink my morning cup of tea, thinking about what I will choose to carry with me today.
I think back to the things I carried with me throughout my days as a child and about the things I see my sweet daughter carry with her throughout her days today. I think of laughter and lightness and warm, comforting thoughts, I think of the sweet anticipation of good, happy things, I think of joy and love and hope, and I think of the people that help bring these things back to life for us when we have all but forgotten.
So here, in the soft light of this early morning, this is what I decide:
I will carry with me Zoey’s sweet smile, her bright, shining eyes, and her beautiful, daily, life-affirming reminders… I will carry with me the kind, understanding words that are dropped upon me by the people I love, the people that know that I’m not okay even when I say I am because they can hear me in my silence… I will carry with me the incredible realization that I’m learning to let go, to surrender, to admit that I’m not perfect—and that it’s okay to do these things… And I will carry with me the understanding that time is not my enemy, because it is the very thing that will eventually make all the sharp, jagged edges of my life softer and smoother and, ultimately, so much easier to carry.
I am a work in progress. Day by day, I’m learning. I know that who I want become and where I want to be might not happen overnight, but I’m learning that that’s okay, too:
Because I realize that slowly but surely, I’m getting there. And that’s a realization that I’m happy to carry, for it makes me feel weightless, like I can finally start taking flight, like I am finally, blissfully, free.
Let me know: Is there something that has been weighing you down lately, something that has been making it hard to go about your days? What are you carrying around that you can choose to set down? And what will you choose to carry today might make your day more hopeful, happy, and full of life?
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These are beautiful words Corey and quite frankly, could not have come at a better time. Thank you for brightening up my Sunday morning!
Thank you, Yolanda! Isn’t it funny how sometimes the right things come along or are said just when you need them most? Zoey’s words this week certainly did that for me.
Yesterday’s post (Aug 6/17) speaks to a weight I’ve been carrying…but, enough about me. Just before you wrote that you wrote you hugged Zoe and cried, I cried. Your experience is so relatable and I love the context you shared…we think so much alike and it is such a gift to read your beautiful chapters…thanks for sharing this beautiful offering…you are a light, as is precious Zoe…what a marvel she is …I am so grateful that you are her mother….take care 🙂
That overwhelmed, overtired feeling is a hard one. That girl of yours is so sweet and wise.
Beautifully crafted and it felt as much for your reader as yourself. I could imagine myself in these moments of piling up. So thankful God’s grace gives us mercies new each morning. I love how you ended it with what you chose to carry. I will take that with me and make my list of what I choose to carry today, too. One of my favorite pieces I’ve read in a long, long time. Thank you. <3
Out if the mouths of babes…such a profound statement that Zoey made. And boy is she right!
Wow. What a beautiful message to start the week. Thank you Zoey (and Corey)!
I have several of those days where I wake up just feeling “off.” I always love your inspirational stories and thoughts.
Such a beautiful post! It is amazing that the messages we need come at exactly the right time. We do live in a magical world.
How is your daughter just so full of wisdom? She’s amazing. It is so simple when you think about it too, we should carry the things that are easier to carry. I’m definitely going to be thinking about that. Beautiful post as always. Here’s to lighter loads.
This is a great post! And a really great reminder! Sometimes I take on too much and I get burnt out super fast!
I was sobbing reading this! I had one of the worst weeks of my life last week and I felt really defeated and my heart was very heavy like the weight you mentioned carrying. I suffer from severe depression, so little tasks like carry groceries into the house or even just getting out of bed feels like such a battle, and words like yours are very important to remember when things do feel too heavy! I’m gonna email myself this post as a reminder when times are tough!
Oh, I loved this story! Such a simple and perfect idea: Carry the things that are easier to carry. Love and lightness, joy and laughter. I appreciate how you let this message in and didn’t overthink it. You weren’t too busy or too tired to brush it aside, even with everything you were still listening and able to hear. In times where I struggle, I trust in the messages, like this one. That though I’m troubled for one reason or another, inspiration is waiting for it’s moment to burst through.
And boy have I been there with the bags and the tiredness pulling at every fiber of my being. Your words, though, speak of deep grace, and a learner’s mindset that inspires me. It’s why I’m now following your blog. 🙂
I love love LOVE this post. Your posts are so brilliantly eye-opening for me and each one makes me feel a little stronger. I love the comfort and brilliance you find in the words of your daughter, and I think we would all do much better to live life more like our kids do!
Beautiful thoughts, and a much-needed reminder to set down the baggage that we needn’t carry.
This is such a beautiful post. Often times I find myself trying to carry too much and then I just break. I am learning to let things go to make my load a little less heavy.
I think Z should become a Jedi. I think she’s earned it. What profound wisdom.
See, it’s in the simple aspects of life, parts that we assume we don’t have a choice, that make a difference when you shift them. Of course, the smooth rock. Of course, leave the jagged one behind. I always feel taller after I’ve cleaned out my backpack/inbox (yeah right!)/car, because I’ve gotten rid of the things I no longer want to carry.
It’s easy to carry the sharp things because we sometimes think its our cross to bear. It isn’t. It’s often a decision you can make in an instant, in a quick run back to the car.
You share such an important and universal message in this post. We seem to pile too much weight on our shoulders, and I think we can all heed Zoey’s sage advice: take that smoother rock and leave the one that causes us pain behind. I am keeping this message with me for these next few weeks as I tackle my upcoming hurdles.
Your writing is so beautiful, the emotions are conveyed so vividly in this post!
Such a great reminder to let go of the unnecessary baggage we drag along with us. Def needed this today! Everything is much simpler from a child’s perspective. 💕
i needed this today. thank you.
Lovely and so well written! Why do we carry around all that hurtful stuff? Isn’t it wonderful when our children put deep, complex matters in such simple terms? I really wonder who is parenting and teaching who some days in my house. I love what our kiddos can teach us if we let them. If we listen. Thanks for sharing!
Isn’t it wonderful how our kids can just bring us crashing back to earth so quickly. Their words are wiser than they’ll ever understand until they become a parent.
Seriously girl, when are you going to write your book? Or compile these blog posts into a devotional or chicken soup for the soul type book? You’re so talented, it needs to happen. <3
I really love reading your blog posts. They’re something else!
I love those words of wisdom from such a small person!
I often feel overwhelmed with everything going on. With a 4 year old and 2 year old (who constantly bicker), I find it difficult to hold it together some days. This season of motherhood is hard (but really,I’m sure each season of motherhood brings a new challenge). Thank you for the reminder to carry the the things that are easy to carry, and let go of the difficult.
What a truly special moment between mother and daughter. Such words of wisdom from young minds that truly blow us away sometimes!
What a precious moment! It always amazes me when kids can say such meaningful things without even knowing that they did. These moments get me excited to have kids one day.
Your daughter is wise beyond her years. <3
the poem you chose there at the end is absolutely beautiful and just hit my soul.
I am going to make that part of my morning routine. What rocks will I choose to carry today?
Your posts always leave me in tears- whether it be because I can relate and feel so much of the same way or because I sense the emotion in your writing- whatever it is keep it up. You are exceptional.
Beautiful, I can relate on so many levels! I’m having one those weeks right now and it’s my kids who keep me going as well.
I think everyone is always a work in progress. It’s important to always keep working on ourselves.
wow beautiful post. i have things weighing on me, but not sure in the literal sense… hmmm..
This is a story every mother should read. It is a conscious decision to let go of those weighty things that don’t do us any good to carry, my problem is the way they creep back in without me noticing right away. It seems to take a constant vigilance and the kind of stress I’m under right now really has no remedy but time.
Kids have such insight, it’s a shame we tend to lose that as we get older.
Swinging over from Eli’s and Judy wanted to say this is brilliant and beautifully written and more relatable than I imagined. Thank you for the awesome reminder to let things of non importance and negativity go.
Have a fabulous weekend!
I’ve just spent several weeks of my life dealing with crisis after crisis, and realized that I couldn’t carry the weight of it all, finally letting it go. The end result was a change in my future plans, and a refocus on the here and now, and allowing myself breathing room.
Thank you for a very powerful post.
Love this post! Reflecting somewhat after reading it.
This is just beautiful! Thank you for sharing the wisdom that so often comes from the mouths of our children.
My favorite part: “And I will carry with me the understanding that time is not my enemy, because it is the very thing that will eventually make all the sharp, jagged edges of my life softer and smoother and, ultimately, so much easier to carry.”
You’ve given me a lot to think about, and I hope to remember it often.