Dead Weight

Aiden's eye lids became lead, as he drifted off into an afternoon nap. I spotted my almost-turned-two toddler, and scooped him up, carrying him to bed.

He momentarily was startled to be picked up, eyes opening wide. But seeing me, mama, and hearing my soothing voice, "I've got you", his lids weighed back down, covering precious blue.

He lay, completely relaxed, in my arms. I was carrying dead weight. He breathed with complete trust.

And I reminisced some of the times I have been carried...

By my husband as we crossed our first threshold as man and wife. Or times we played, piggyback rides for fun.

Times I have been injured, needed assistance.

And as my memory scanned over the last decades, I realized one thing entirely different about adults and children. Adults help.

Adults try to hold some of their own weight. As I rested in Trever's arms, I had one arm around his shoulder and supported my upper half. I wondered if he thought I was heavy...

A child allows himself to be completely supported. His thoughts are not on how he can make things easier, his thoughts are only on the complete trust he has in the one carrying him.

And that is how I want to trust God.

I want to allow myself to be dead weight some times.

To stop trying to work for, earn, deserve love from God. Or others. Like my sweet husband. When he tells me I am beautiful, I want to believe him instead of thinking I need to tab on a bit of makeup to truly be deserving of his compliments...

I need to shift the focus from myself, my ability to work, fix things, help...

On to Him. Trust completely. Rest.

Rest.

Rest.