For much of my life, I thought healing meant learning how to carry more, gracefully. Now I know healing includes learning how to carry less. After all, butterflies were created to fly. They were not made to carry cocoons.
“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”
—1 Peter 5:7
Recently, I had a realization that felt both freeing and heartbreaking.
I have been carrying my entire life.
Not just responsibilities. Not just children. Not just finances or ministry or dreams.
I have been carrying outcomes.
Carrying people.
Carrying hope.
Carrying disappointment.
Carrying uncertainty.
Carrying the future.
Carrying things God never asked me to carry.
Suddenly, so much began to make sense.
The exhaustion.
The constant feeling of being “on” or “vigilant.”
The inability to fully rest even when there was nothing urgent to do.
The nervous system that feels worn thin.
The body that has held tightly to weight despite my desire to release it.
It was as if I had discovered that I had been walking through life with a backpack full of rocks, and because I had carried it for so long, I had forgotten it was even there.
Our unhealthy patterns train our systems to respond, or more accurately, react to life.
The Pack Mule Problem
When you spend years carrying burdens, your body adapts.
It becomes a pack mule.
Strong.
Capable.
Dependable.
Always ready.
Always vigilant.
Always prepared.
The problem isn’t that the mule is broken.
The problem is that it no longer remembers what it feels like to put the packs down.
So when God begins whispering,
“You don’t have to carry this anymore,”
our spirit rejoices.
But our body hesitates.
Because our body asks a very reasonable question:
“If I stop carrying everything, who will keep us safe?”
The Body Learns Through Experience
One of the most important things I am learning is that the body does not learn safety through information.
It learns through experience.
I can quote Scripture.
I can declare God’s promises.
I can remind myself that God is faithful.
And all of those things are good.
But my nervous system is asking something deeper:
“Can you show me?”
Can you show me what it feels like to stop bracing?
Can you show me what it feels like to rest?
Can you show me what it feels like to trust?
The body learns safety one experience at a time.
One exhale.
One quiet morning.
One moment of choosing not to carry tomorrow.
One reminder that we are not alone.
A Memory of Safety
Years ago, after a long season of uncertainty, and just giving birth to my sixth child, we entered a season that felt safe.
We had a steady paycheck.
A beautiful home.
Community.
Friendships.
Predictability.
I carried extra weight for nearly two years because my body still held onto the trauma of the previous season.
Then one day I stood in front of a mirror and spoke to my body.
I told her:
“We’re safe now. You can let go.”
And she did.
Not immediately.
Not dramatically.
But gradually.
The weight released.
The lesson wasn’t that weight loss happened.
The lesson was that my body responded to safety.
That memory has become important to me.
Because it reminds me that my body is not broken.
She knows how to release.
She is simply waiting to feel safe enough.
Safety When Circumstances Are Uncertain
This is where the deeper lesson begins.
Because most of us think safety comes from circumstances.
A paycheck.
A home.
A full savings account.
A predictable future.
And while those things absolutely matter, many of us discover that our deepest fear remains even when those things arrive.
Why?
Because true safety is not the absence of uncertainty.
It is knowing we are not alone in uncertainty.
Jesus never promised a life free from storms.
He promised His presence in them.
Perhaps safety isn’t learning that nothing difficult will happen.
Perhaps safety is learning:
“Whatever happens, I will not face it alone.”
The Yoke of Jesus
When Jesus said:
“Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me,”
He wasn’t inviting us into another burden.
A yoke connected two oxen.
The stronger one carried most of the weight while the younger one learned the pace.
What if Jesus was saying:
“Walk beside Me while I carry what you cannot?”
For those of us who have spent our lives carrying, that feels almost irresponsible.
Yet that is exactly what He invites us into.
Not more striving.
Not more effort.
Not more responsibility.
Partnership.
Presence.
Trust.
What Your Body Needs When It Has Been Carrying Too Long
If your nervous system has been in survival mode for years, your body may not need more assignments.
It may need more signals of safety.
Simple things matter.
Warm tea.
A soft blanket.
Ocean sounds.
A forest walk.
A quiet stream.
A good book.
A sweet treat.
Sunlight on your face.
Watching birds at a feeder.
Walking slowly instead of rushing.
Sitting on a porch with someone you love.
Listening to worship music.
Planting flowers.
Gardening.
Walking barefoot in the grass.
Quiet beauty.
A hand over your heart while you breathe deeply.
These things seem small.
But your nervous system experiences them as messages:
“You are safe enough right now.”
Movement Without Burden
I had heard that exercise helps with stress and can help with cortisol levels. But whenever I “exercised”, my body felt exhausted and I seemed to gain more weight. The feeling of failing only added to the hopelessness. Exercise became another weight to carry.
Another obligation.
Another assignment.
Another thing to fail at.
But perhaps what my body needs right now is not exercise as discipline.
Perhaps she needs movement as delight.
Walking.
Stretching.
Dancing in the kitchen.
Working in the garden.
Exploring a trail.
Moving because it feels good.
Moving because it is life-giving.
Moving because movement itself can become a message of safety.
Live Presently
One of the greatest practices I am learning is asking myself:
“What am I carrying right now?”
Not intellectually.
Physically.
Can I feel it in my chest?
My shoulders?
My stomach?
My jaw?
Then I pause and pray:
“Jesus, this belongs to You.”
Not once.
A hundred times if necessary.
Because I am retraining a nervous system.
Teaching my body that I am no longer alone.
Teaching my body that I am no longer the carrier.
Teaching my body that I have a Shepherd.
Learning a New Language
Trust me when I say, it is hard for this woman, who has been carrying for decades, to not convince, force, or correct myself every time I feel afraid or overwhelmed.
I am not trying to become a new person overnight (although I impatiently wish it could happen that way), I am leaning a new language and training my brain with new, healthy thoughts.
It’s no longer:
“I need to figure this out.”
“What if this doesn’t work?”
“How do I make this happen?”
“I should be doing more.”
“I need to brace because I can’t trust that good things will stay.”
Those thoughts were not irrational. They were protective.
They helped me survive.
But survival language is not the same as flourishing language.
Now I am learning a new language:
“I am okay today.”
“I don’t have to solve the whole future.”
“God has been faithful before.”
“I can enjoy what is here.”
“I am putting down roots.”
“I am not alone.”
That takes practice.
Not because it is untrue, but because it is unfamiliar.
Growing Wings
For much of my life, I thought healing meant learning how to carry more, gracefully.
Now I know healing means learning how to carry less.
Recently, someone said something that stopped me in my tracks:
“Perhaps this season is less about helping your body release weight and more about helping your body grow wings.”
That image has stayed with me.
A butterfly does not emerge from the cocoon and immediately soar across the sky. Remember, she is a different creature entirely.
First, she hangs quietly.
Fluid moves from her body into her wings.
Strength develops.
Expansion happens.
From the outside, it appears that nothing is happening.
But everything is happening.
Perhaps that is where some of us are right now.
Not failing.
Not stuck.
Not going backward.
Growing wings.
The release tends to follow when the wings know they can trust the wind.
Learning that safety is not found in carrying the entire future.
Learning that God’s presence is enough for this moment.
And discovering that butterflies were never meant to carry cocoons on their backs.
They were created to fly.
“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”
—1 Peter 5:7
In everything you do -eat, play, and love- may it always be seasoned with Joy!
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