I’m sat in my beautiful garden, surrounded by birdsong and burgeoning plants that should fill me with hope and a sense of purpose. And all I want is for the world to stop so I can get off.
I want to escape. I want to hide. Perhaps that’s what I’m doing in the garden: hiding in clear sight, so well camouflaged by the ordinariness of being here that no one can see me (except the midges which are feasting on my bare legs).
I’m tired, Lord, really tired, Tired of being the sponge soaking up so many other people’s problems. Tired of the downward dipping rollercoaster ride of being a carer. Tired of being the responsible, sensible, practical, understanding one.
I know there is good stuff in my life. I know there are days when I do feel fulfilled, when I feel I’ve achieved something tangible with my time and effort. I know there are times, some of them very recent, when I have felt truly happy and blessed. I know I have a loving family and supportive friends. But today is not one of those days.
I want it to stop. I want to get off this endless carousel.
But I do feel less heavy for having told You this, Lord. Is this what it means to lay my burdens at the foot of the Cross? You’ll have to show me how to leave them there though. Or give me a better backpack for carrying them. All journeys need a place to stop and rest for a few moments. Perhaps pouring this out on paper here in the garden is mine.