Quit Haulin’ What Ain’t Yours
Well now, Butterbean, pull up a chair on this ol’ front porch and mind that wobbly board over yonder. I swear it’s been threatenin’ to give way since the Clinton administration. Let me pour you a glass of sweet tea so strong it could probably remove rust off a tractor, and let’s git to talkin’ for a lil’ ol’ spell.
You know, life has a funny way of handin’ us burdens we were never meant to tote. Some of us are out here ‘a-carryin’ guilt like a mule carryin’ a load of bricks uphill in August. And we wonder why our knees are bucklin’ like a baby deer ‘a-tryin’ to stand on a frozen pond.
I was sittin’ out here the other day ‘a-watchin’ a squirrel try to drag a whole corncob up a tree. Bless its determined little heart. It done kept slippin’, slidin’, fussin’, and squeakin’ like it was auditionin’ for a woodland drama. And I thought, “Well ain’t that just like us humans, a‑tryin’ to haul stuff God never told us to pick up in the first place.”
And don’t even get me started on parents. Some of y’all are carryin’ guilt heavier than a hog at the county fair. You are blamin’ yourself for every wrong turn your grown children ever made, as if you personally led them into temptation like some kind of misguided tour guide.
But before you go wringin’ your hands and pacin’ the porch like a rooster lookin’ for a lost worm, let me tell you somethin’. God has a word for you today. A good one. A freein’ one. One that might just lift that weight off your shoulders like a barn cat jumpin’ off your lap when it hears a can opener.
So, settle in, Buttercup. Take a deep breath ‘cause the Lord has somethin’ to say, and it is sweeter than peach cobbler fresh outta the oven.
Ezekiel 18:20 reminds us that everybody stands before God on their own two feet. That means your grown children’s choices are their choices. You are not responsible for every wild idea they chase like a goat ‘a-runnin’ through a turnip patch.
Some of y’all raised your kids in church, prayed over ‘em, fed ‘em casseroles shaped like crosses, and still they done wandered off like a rooster who spotted a hole in the fence. And now, you are ‘a-sittin’ there and blamin’ yourself like you done personally invented sin.
Listen here, Junebug. God was the perfect Father, and His kids still acted like spiritual raccoons ‘a-diggin’ through the trash. If God Himself had rebellious children, what makes you think you were supposed to raise a flock of halo‑wearin’ angels who never once done made a mess?
You taught ‘em. You prayed for ‘em. You hauled ‘em to church even when they done acted like they were ‘a-bein’ dragged to a dentist who only owned rusty tools. You done your part. At some point, they became responsible for their own decisions. That is now between them and Jesus, not between you and guilt.
So, stop replayin’ every moment like a squirrel ‘a-runnin’ in circles tryin’ to remember where it buried its acorns. You gotta be lettin’ it go. Release that there weight ‘a-fore it done flattens you like a cow ‘a-sittin’ on a lawn chair.
God loves your children more than you do. He can chase ‘em farther, reach ‘em deeper, and speak louder than your worry ever could. Be ‘a-trustin’ Him. He is real good at His job.
Lord, help me lay down the guilt I was never meant to carry. Be remindin’ me that You love my children more than I ever could. Be ‘a-givin’ me peace, ‘a-givin’ them direction, and ‘a-helpin’ me to be ‘a-prayin’ for ‘em and ‘a-trustin’ You with every part of their story. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Well, Buttercup, that there is enough truth to chomp down on and chew up real good for one day. Now, go on out there and be ‘a-breathin’ real deep, ‘a-shakin’ off that there guilt like an ol’ hound dog ‘a-shakin’ off his bathwater, and be rememberin’: Land sakes alive, our good God is still ‘a-sittin’ on the throne of glory, and He ain’t gonna be raisin’ no quitters.
With joy,
Gwen
