I can carry my own load,

It is the essence of the me I am,

I have learned to modify my surroundings,


Temper my loves and hates,

Sorted my have to’s and want to’s,

Accepted the things I cannot change,

Changed the things I can,

Altered my attitude so…

I can live a life content…mostly.

Speckled with joy…occasionally.

Covered with grace…always.

Then, as I’m strolling along just fine,

Guard down, eyes straying just a bit from the way,


I am gutted.

Swiftly. Unexpectedly. Jaggedly.

I’m left feeling as if someone has socked me hard in the stomach.

Mentally I’m doubled over with pain,

The nausea comes in waves and I am angry.

Angry that a presence outside me re-awakens these feelings.

Angry that life affects my being…

My bones ache to shed this burden that isn’t mine to carry.

It’s time to surrender it to the one who will take it as his load,

His portion.


Prostrate I ask,

How then should I live tightly wrapped in the great I am?

How then should I slough off the evil that is hell bent on my destruction?

How then should I meet the guilt, the accusations, the nausea, the anger?

How then should I grasp the joy as it passes?

Breathe the peace as it settles?


Live the promise as it’s given?

Embrace the grace as it gathers me up?

How then should I love me into surrender?

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