Carrying Rocks

Beach rocks

On one of the many beach hikes I take my three children on, I noticed my middle child stuffing his pockets with rocks. Every pocket was full and now he was starting to carry them by hand. As I cringed at the thought of those rocks making their way into my washer and dryer later, he started asking what all children ask at some point on a hike, "Mom, can you carry some of these for me?" 

My first reaction is always to help my children, probably to a fault at times. But this time I looked at my rock carrying middle child and gave him 2 options. He could leave the rocks at the beach for other people to enjoy or he could carry what he wished to the car and keep it. 

As we walked on the beach back to the car, the complaining began. Epic complaining, whining, bargaining with me, lagging behind saying that it’s too heavy for him to carry. Why could I not help him carry these rocks? Why? 

What my 7 year old was missing in this moment of complaining is that he was CHOOSING to carry these rocks. No one was forcing him to or demanding that he make it to the car with all these rocks. He was holding onto these rocks and complaining about how heavy they are.

Every now and then it's important to take inventory of what we are holding onto in our lives. Notice what rocks you are choosing to carry. Is it people pleasing others? Is it stretching yourself thin in order to serve others? Is it having too many items on your to do list that are not necessary? Is it holding onto things that no longer serve you? Is it past resentments or fear? The things we choose to carry influence our mindset and can at times translate into anger, anxiety, depression and an overall feeling of being stuck.

We all have some rocks to carry in life, but sometimes we forget that many of the rocks we are carrying, can also be put down along the way, so we can walk a bit lighter, faster and freer.

And for those who need to know how my middle child's story ended, he made it. He made it to the car with every single rock, pebble and boulder he had, like the true middle child that he is. May my washer and dryer rest in peace.