I was standing on a street corner, and across the way I saw him. It wasn't really his person that caught my eye as much as it was the grocery cart he pushed in front of him. It was piled precariously high with an odd assortment of things. I couldn't distinguish what those "things" were, but they must have been important to him. As the light changed, signaling that pedestrians could cross, he started pushing the cart into the street. He soon disappeared behind the mound that had to reach at least seven or eight feet in height. I noticed as I passed him that he had strategically used bungie cords to hold everything in place, almost like an odd sculpture of sorts. I continued walking toward my destination, but even after I could no longer see him nudging his cart forward, I thought about that man. I wonder if he ever grows weary of juggling his heaping load. Does he ever consider just leaving it behind?
I do not have to manage a grocery cart full of belongings throughout my day, but I certainly feel like I am often precariously balancing relationships, responsibilities, and expectations. I have lists to check off, friends to check in with, and phone calls to make. And that doesn't include the numerous responsibilities of work. Oh, and the future! There is always something to worry about. More and more gets piled on, to the point where I have to pull out my bungie cords and start tying things down just to keep everything together. What about you? Does your cart feel like it is going to topple over at any moment? Can you see the people in front of you, or are you hidden behind a mound of responsibilities and expectations?
Today I am sipping tea and snuggling a fussy babe. She won't be put down, and she is reminding me that sometimes it is okay to ditch the cart so you can see your people. It's okay to leave the load of laundry in the basket overnight. After all, wrinkles never killed anyone. It's okay to leave that item on your to-do list another day so that you can sit across the table from someone you love without being interrupted. It's okay to take a night off, to read your kiddo a bedtime story or rediscover a book sitting on your nightstand. You don't need an excuse to park your cart and just breathe for a couple minutes.
In fact, my weary friend, there is much to be missed hiding behind that grocery cart sculpture of responsibilities you are pushing around. Let's just agree to park our carts for a bit this week so we can pay attention to our hearts and the hearts of those around us.
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