Learning to Unload Before We Overload
Life in rural Wales comes with its own peculiar challenges, not the least of which is grocery shopping. When the nearest proper supermarket is a good thirty minutes away, online ordering becomes less of a convenience and more of a necessity. Jason and I have our system down to a science. The delivery arrives in stackable plastic crates, we unload everything, and then return the empty crates to the driver.
We even have our division of labor sorted. Jason tackles the refrigerated and frozen items while I handle the pantry goods. It works seamlessly... well, most of the time.
During our most recent delivery, Jason gestured toward what appeared to be a single crate sitting on our kitchen table. "That's all pantry stuff," he said casually, already turning his attention to the cold goods.
I nodded, reaching for the handles of what I presumed was one solitary crate. I'd taken precisely two steps when physics delivered a painful lesson. What I had assumed to be one crate was actually two, but I'd only grasped the handles of the top one, leaving the bottom crate to obey gravity's irrefutable command. Down it plummeted, landing with a sickening thud directly across the top of my foot.
The yelp that escaped my lips brought Jason running, but the damage was already done. My poor foot has since displayed an impressive kaleidoscope of colors from black fading to blue, then purple, with hints of sickly yellow around the edges.
Neither of us had realized what the other didn't know. Jason didn't think to warn me about the two crates because he assumed I could see that. I didn't think to check, as the nested crates looked like one unit from my angle.
As I sat with an ice pack on my technicolor foot, I couldn't help but see the spiritual parallel. How often do we pick up burdens we were never meant to carry? How frequently do we grasp at handles that aren't ours to hold?
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)
Jesus never intended for us to struggle beneath the weight of worry, fear, doubt, or even responsibilities that aren't ours. Yet we grab these crates without thinking, assuming we must carry everything within reach.
The apostle Paul instructed us to "Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ" (Galatians 6:2), but just a few verses later clarified, "For every man shall bear his own burden" (Galatians 6:5). Some loads are meant to be shared; others are personal responsibilities. Wisdom lies in knowing the difference.
My bruised foot serves as a colorful reminder that not every burden within reach is mine to bear. Sometimes, the most spiritual thing we can do is recognize our limitations and leave certain crates for the One whose shoulders were designed to carry them. You'll be glad you did!