Dear Little Girl…You Don’t Have to Carry What Isn’t Yours
Somewhere along the way, many of us started believing that loving someone meant carrying what belonged to them. But compassion doesn't require us to bear burdens God never asked us to hold.
Dear Little Girl,
You've always been so good at carrying things.
Not just groceries.
Not just diaper bags.
Not just calendars and responsibilities.
You carry moods.
You carry tension.
You carry everyone's disappointment.
You carry conversations long after they've ended.
You carry the weight of wondering if someone is upset with you, if you said the wrong thing, if you could have fixed it, if you should have tried harder.
Somewhere along the way, you started believing that love meant carrying what belonged to everyone else.
But sweet girl...
That's not love.
That's exhaustion.
“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”
Real love doesn't require you to carry what God never asked you to hold.
Compassion isn't the same thing as responsibility.
You can sit beside someone in their pain without climbing into it.
You can pray for someone without trying to control them.
You can understand why someone reacts the way they do without excusing hurtful behavior.
You can love someone deeply without carrying what belongs to them.
That lesson has taken me years to learn.
For a long time, I believed every difficult conversation was mine to fix.
Every tense moment was mine to soften.
Every harsh word was mine to explain away.
If someone I loved was hurting, somehow I believed it was my job to hurt with them until they felt better.
But God has been teaching me something different.
He has been gently showing me that I can remain compassionate without becoming responsible for another person's choices.
I can understand someone's story without making it my burden.
I can stay present without abandoning myself.
That's what healthy love looks like.
Jesus carried the cross.
He never asked you to carry everyone else's.
So today, lay it down.
Lay down the guilt that was never yours.
Lay down the shame someone else handed you.
Lay down the responsibility you've quietly accepted for another person's healing.
Because there is only one Savior.
And it isn't you.
Today, simply carry what God has placed in your hands.
Leave the rest with Him.
Because remember this: The cross was never an invitation for you to become someone else's savior. It was an invitation to trust the One who already is.
Today, open your hands.
God never asked you to carry it alone.
Love,
The Girl Who Is Finally Learning the Difference
“Father,
Teach me the difference between compassion and responsibility.
Help me carry only what You’ve placed in my hands.
Amen.”
Dear Little Girl…Rest in Hope
What if peace isn't found in finally getting the answer, but in learning to trust God before it comes? A reflection on uncertainty, hope, and the quiet presence of God in the waiting.
Dear Little Girl,
You like answers.
You like to know what is going to happen next.
You like plans and timelines and reassurance that everything will be okay.
You want to know the test results before the doctor calls.
You want to know the marriage will stay steady.
You want to know the kids will make good choices.
You want to know the money will stretch far enough.
You want to know the people you love will be safe.
And when you don't know, you start working.
You think about it.
Pray about it.
Research it.
Plan for it.
Prepare for every possible outcome.
As if enough effort could somehow create certainty.
But lately God has been teaching you something different.
Not through answers.
Through peace.
The kind of peace that shows up before the situation changes.
The kind that arrives when there are still questions on the table.
The kind that whispers, "You don't need to know everything. You just need to know Me."
In Acts 2, Peter stood before the crowd and quoted David's words:
"My body also will rest in hope."
Rest in hope.
Not rest in certainty.
Not rest in guarantees.
Hope.
Because hope is not confidence in an outcome.
Hope is confidence in God's presence.
It means trusting that even if the path twists in ways you didn't expect, you will not walk it alone.
So, dear little girl, stop striving for certainty.
Stop demanding tomorrow's answers before you've lived today.
The Spirit of God is already with you.
The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead lives in you.
And maybe the miracle isn't finally getting the answer you've been waiting for.
Maybe the miracle is discovering you can rest before it arrives.
Rest in hope.
Not because you know what happens next.
Because you know Who goes with you.