Sometimes I am melancholy. It's a part of who I am and why I have always felt so deeply for those who hurt. When I was a little girl my favorite books and movies were the ones that made me cry, and that included Little House on the Prairie and all the books that went with it. I sobbed when Jack the brindle bulldog died. It was like I had lost my very own dog. Of course, I had once lost my own dog, ... on my 8th birthday. He got hit by a car before school one morning, which was really sad by itself, but the memory of watching my brother carry him home and dig a hole in the backyard to bury him is what is clearest. It was as though I actually felt my brother's pain as well as my own.
Not sure where I'm going with all of that... but I'm working hard on not shouldering the load that isn't mine. Yes, it is true that we are called to "bear one another's burdens" but I don't think God ever intended us to carry the weight of the world. He's the only one up to that challenge. It's a good thing to understand the pain of others and to help them wherever we can. It's good to hurt along with those who hurt, but to be incapacitated by grief that isn't mine would only leave me incapable of actually being helpful. It's that Lesson of the Oxygen Mask all over again.
And a bit of goldenrod to brighten up you day and tell you autumn is near (as well as ragweed... Achoo!)
The Barn Collective.
17 hours ago