"It's not yours."

So, this summer has been good, but difficult. (Isn't that the way it always goes?) DH is waiting on a job interview, and we're getting to spend the time together as a family. That's good, but, uh...

Needless to say, we've been relearning, "living by faith." That's always amazing and challenging in the same moment. The kids, especially Thing One, have been more palpably worried, but we're explaining that everything will be okay. Maybe not at all how we expected, but okay.

I'm rambling. The other day, I just got so tired of everything. Tired of the computer needing fixed, tired of the food in the house being not what I was hungry for, tired of the worry and the fear of the whole situation. I whispered to myself: "I give up."

The quiet response I got was startling in that profound way. "Good," the Still, Small Voice whispered emphatically in my ear. "Good. It's not yours anyway."

I realized I'd been carrying the weight of the situation on my shoulders. My muscles were tense, taut with the strain of everything piling up on me. But my shoulders aren't big enough for this. DH's shoulders, while admittedly a bit broader than mine, aren't big enough to carry the load.

Luckily, or blessedly, I don't have to carry it. It's not mine.

(Hint: It's not yours, either.)

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