For Those Days When You Want to Be Carried Like a Tired Child

I stumble up the stairs, barely able to carry my sleeping daughter. All 57 pounds of her small frame utterly restful and irritatingly relaxed in my burning arms. Like a child size Gumby, heavy and bendable; warm, breathing, pliable dead weight.

But even as I struggle to make it up the last few steps and into the bedroom with my precious cargo, I can’t help but relish in the happening.

For someday, this sleeping princess, with her soft skin and playful curls, will be too big for me to carry. Someday she’ll not want her mama to wrap loving arms around her and cart her off to her bed, tucking her in, kissing her suede-like cheeks and nuzzling her sweet-smelling neck.

But for now, she’s still little and cannot protest. (For she is asleep after all.)

And so I savor and soak it in for all its backbreaking sweetness and muscle-straining beauty, forcing myself to pause and delight in the awkwardness of carrying a child through a doorway without banging a head or whacking dangling feet.

For every parent knows how hard it is to not wake them, plopping them onto their beds, yanking at wadded-up sheets that have been kicked and pushed in every direction, moving stuffed animals, toys, and doll clothes out of the way.

And it dawns on me as I head back down the stairs to carry sacked-out child #2 from the car, that this is how God takes care of me.

When my world is crashing down and I’m completely worn out, He carries me. Through the storm. Through the darkness. Never wearied. Never too tired. He’s always there. Carrying me through the mess and the muck.

It’s in those times, I am forced to stop fighting the future and simply rest in His arms. For it’s there that I begin to relax, growing more confident in His strength and goodness toward me, my heart finding trust. Where at last! my soul can breathe in true peace, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that He won’t drop me. That no matter what happens, He will be there. And regardless of the end result, His loving arms will remain.

And so I finish tucking my children into bed, praying over them, whispering words of thanks for the chance to be their mama.

I tiptoe down to my own soft bed where I offer up prayers of gratitude for protection and provision, so thankful for my Savior’s strong but gentle hands.

I tiredly tuck the goose down duvet under my chin, exhaling the worries of the day and breathing in His promises of what will be.

Good plans. For me. For us.

And as I do, I hear a gentle whisper:

Rest, sweet mama. I will carry you.

And you know the best part? He does.

About
Latest Posts

Anne-Renee Gumley

Anne-Renee is a full-time mom who works part-time at her family's party store. She has two children who keep her laughing, a husband who keeps her smiling, and an itch for writing that just won't go away.