More like, lugging it around and huffing and puffing and whining and sweating and sobbing.
And, I'm sick to death of this bag.
If you were one of the few lucky (I use that term loosely) folks who got to actually see the contents you would have seen some beautifully wrapped bitterness and anger. Some are new hurts, and others are ones I've been carrying a while. You would have noticed how artfully I displayed my hurts and how I tried to make it look polished.
A pretty bow on my petty thoughts.
But, it was not pretty and even though I would never confront these people, I somehow wanted the various offenders to know that I was carrying these hurts and bad feelings and disappointments. I wanted these individuals to know that they had let me down. I wanted them to know that it was NOT ok and that I expected better from them. I wanted to be vindicated of my pain and suffering and I wanted them to feel badly.
In my head, I even rehearsed a few conversations as to how it could go if we ever magically had a sit down and I got to unload every. last. complaint. How cool, calm, and collected I would be as I nailed them to the wall with my comments. I would say it so well, I wouldn't crack a tear, and there would be no doubt that I was the innocent one.
And then, they would see that I had been wronged and how awful it was that they had stuck their transgressions into my bag without even asking me!!!!
And, of course, I would move on at that point, but I would remember it like the Alamo for the rest of my life.
Oh yes, just like the Alamo.
Or the 21st night of September.
I would so remember.
Maybe even hold a vigil on the anniversary of the Vindication Conversation 2012.
Somebody get me a lighter.
And, then, I realized that my bags had gotten too, too full. And I was no longer carrying around nice things interspersed between the bad--just a big ol' bag of ick. And it was not pretty. And I had nothing in my bag that reminded me of the lady I wanted to be.
And I didn't like that, either. Because I don't want to be a snarky lady. Those ladies are mean and no one likes them and they are just plain annoying. And, I certainly wasn't extending any grace. Grace like the grace I'd like to receive when I've wronged someone.
I was mad at these people for acting like people. I was holding them to standards that I wouldn't want for myself. And it's just not fair, right, or good.
So, recently, I've started unloading my bags. I've started letting Him hold them for me, to hold my thoughts, to hold my anger. I've shared with a handful of trusted people and tried to lighten the load in my heart. I'm not completely empty, but I'm getting there.
I've found that it's a lot easier when I don't have to carry it all by myself.
Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly. Matthew 11:28-30 MSG
Thank goodness He's a gentleman.