#laydownyourburdens

[msronid31]

#TrustGod #LayDownYourBurdens #DoorsClose #GodOpensDoors #PeopleWillDisappointYou #GodWillComfortYou https://www.instagram.com/p/CRxxr3XjpKj/?utm_medium=tumblr

[msafiyathediva]

#TuesdayWisdom Let the past go, it is what it is, move forward. Nothing left in the past but lessons learned. #letitgo #letgoandletGod #thepastisthepast #laydownyourburdens #lifelessonslearned #teamnoworries https://www.instagram.com/p/BwD2mJNhmc2/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1h8peor8nw7ol

[lmoehr]

To me there is nothing more relaxing then sitting on the beach. Jasper kitty verse of the day. #peace #pets #CATS #rest #laydownyourburdens

[mochagnome]

God is ever present, our provider, protector, creator, we are all in His grace. Everyone of us ❤️#40daysoflent #day9 #believeoutloud #laydownyourburdens #myshield (at CHRISTUS Trinity Mother Frances)

[iramos68]

Talk no more so exceeding proudly; let not arrogancy come out of your mouth: for the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions are weighed. 1 Samuel 2:3 Talk to the living God today, that you may be healed. #healing #knowsallthings #YAH #laydownyourburdens #Saturday

[sailoraileen-blog]

#laydownyourburdens (at Rickenbacker Causeway)

[oxiegoeimi]

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Press on toward the mark, the high calling hidden in your diary, we love what you have building in the castle of your dreams 🎙#caitlinmahoney #spin #acoustic #clouds #pnw #washington #tacoma #schooldays #wanderlust #exhalethebullshit #fallintoatrance #cityinthesky #orbittheuniverse #weareOne #Bigbang #Ancestry #fate #laydownyourburdens #chaseyourdreams #opentheDoor #leadtheway #human #riskeverything #love #Namaste #justBE #yolo (at Tacoma, Washington)

[exsetgirl]

in the long run

In the short run we are responsible. In the short run we are all dead.

           Walt Richardson

  In the short run, I always carried something that was just a little bit too unwieldy, never overwhelmingly so, just a little so that I had to keep shifting it around, changing position, moving my hands and arms so I wouldn’t drop it. I walked blocks and blocks, miles and miles, still…always…carrying something. I passed an older man on the street once. He wore a soft, faded, grey felt fedora, and a canvas parka with a hem shaped like two triangles in the back.

           “Put that down, young lady,” he said, “Put that down. You don’t have to keep carrying that. It’s still a long way, a long way to go.”

           I ignored him, brushing past him, leaning over just enough so that my shoulder touched his, showing him just how much in the way he was.

           “Watch where you’re going,” I said, “Watch where you’re going.”

           I didn’t look back but I could feel his eyes watching me leave. The back of my neck felt hot, even though my hair was pulled up in a pony tail and the wind coming from the East River was cold and spikey. I couldn’t stop. I was afraid to put anything down for fear I wouldn’t be able to pick it back up again.

           I just kept carrying everything.

           “In the long run, what are you going to do?” Mary asked me. She pushed her new, round, clear glasses back up her nose. “You can’t just set all of this down in the middle of gods know where and expect everything to be ok. What will you do? How will you live?”

           “I don’t know,” I said, “Maybe I don’t need all these things. Maybe I’m not supposed to carry them. Maybe someone lied along the way. Maybe this isn’t living the dream. Maybe it’s just a sham. And maybe my arms hurt.”

           “Hmmpth,” said Mary. She stooped to pick up something shiny from the dirty sidewalk. She stuffed it into the pocket of her expensive, brown leather coat.

           “Might come in handy,” she said.

           I nodded because that’s what friends do and walked beside her. I tried to ignore my gut, my stomach, my arms, everything. I walked beside her and when she stopped again, on the corner of 76th and Lex to pick another shiny object, I helped her find a place to wedge it into her arms.

           “I really have to go,” Mary said then, “I have so much to do today. And I’ve got to get all of this stuff back home so I can go out again.”

           “Okay. Sure.” I said.

           Mary leapt out onto Lexington Ave, balancing her load with one arm while swinging the other high. A yellow tax cab pulled up next her and she and her load shimmied into the back seat.

           I watched her go. After the cab pulled away, I stood there on the edge of the sidewalk watching the cars stream by. People bumped into me or my load and, suddenly, for no discernable reason, I just set everything down on the sidewalk, right next to one of those metal paper boxes for the New York Post. I wasn’t even sure what was in that load anymore, not really. I stared at it there on the ground, leaning against the paper box.

A girl in sweat pants and high heels came careening by me. She lost her balance because the thing she was carrying was so wide. She teetered for a second on the tip of her right spiked heel, then fell right into the pile of stuff I had set on the ground.

           “Ooof,” she said. She never let go of what was in her arms. She wouldn’t put anything down. She tried to get up but didn’t have enough leverage because her arms were full and she didn’t want to empty them. I reached down and pulled her up by her elbows.

           “Oh thank you. Thank you so much,” she said. She started to smile then stopped. Her eyes widened in what looked like horror but I couldn’t be sure. “Oh my god,” she said, “I had no idea. No idea.”

           “What?” I asked her.

           “Your arms,” she said, “Your arms are so devastatingly empty.”

           I opened my mouth as if to say something. Then I closed it again. I looked once more at my discarded pile of stuff and at the girl, pursing her lips at me. People rushed by us with their arms chock full of every single thing they could possibly carry, some of it so old they probably didn’t even remember what it was, or that it was there. I swung my arms from side to side, strong and free.

           “In the long run, I think I like them this way,” I said and walked away, empty arms and all.