🍂 Sit With Me: What Remains Is Not Yours to Carry 🍂

 🍂 Sit With Me: What Remains Is Not Yours to Carry 🍂

The other night, I dreamed of someone breaking into my home. It was a high school girl, climbing through my second-story window. At first, I couldn’t breathe enough to cry out. But then I caught her, held on, and called for help. The strange thing was, when the officer finally arrived, she seemed more interested in chit-chat than in my fear. And before I knew it, the girl had slipped right out of her jeans and escaped. I was left holding nothing but the empty fabric.

When I turned back to my room, I saw a voodoo doll hanging there—stitched together from my old clothes, the ones I’d given away after my dad died. Later, I passed John, the old publisher I once worked for, and I thanked him for my home. But he just walked past me, busy on a worn, grassy path.

I woke unsettled. Shaken. But as I sat with the dream, I began to see it differently.

The intruder was a picture of the past trying to sneak back into places it doesn’t belong. The jeans I held were only a shell—just like old roles, old jobs, or old hurts. They don’t hold the weight of who I am anymore. Even the voodoo doll, stitched from the remnants of what I let go, is powerless. It may look frightening, but it’s only made of scraps.

And John’s silence? Maybe it was a reminder that closure from the past doesn’t always come. Sometimes we don’t get the thanks or recognition we hoped for. But maybe that’s because God is gently redirecting us—our story isn’t back there. It’s ahead, on a new path He’s carving just for us.

What comforts me is this: even in my fear, I acted. I caught hold. I called for help. I wasn’t voiceless. And I am not voiceless now.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1)

When the past tries to creep back in, when it feels like old hurts or injustices still carry power, remember: they don’t belong to you anymore. The clothes, the job, the publisher—they’ve all walked their path. They no longer define your home, your safety, or your worth.

God has made you strong enough to stand, even when others look away. And His eyes—unlike theirs—never miss a thing.