July Taught Me I Was Carrying What Wasn’t Mine
July brought grief, wedding preparations, anniversary memories, physical limits, and more pressure than I realized I was carrying. God began showing me the difference between loving people and trying to control every outcome.
What grief, wedding preparations, physical limits, and fifteen days of waiting taught me about releasing pressure and letting God be God
Scripture Focus
Psalm 46:10
“Be still, and know that I am God!”
Psalm 46:10 NRSVUE
By the end of July, I realized I had quietly turned love into a job description.
Keep everyone okay. Finish every wedding detail. Anticipate every possible problem. Support those who were grieving. Continue writing and creating. Ignore my own exhaustion. Somehow make sure an emotionally complicated family celebration remained peaceful.
The problem was not that I loved too much. The problem was the pressure I had attached to that love.
July brought more than I could neatly sort through. Sarah’s mother, Louise, passed away on July 4. We gathered for her Celebration of Life on July 8. July 16 marked ten years since my dad passed away. My husband and I celebrated thirty-one years of marriage, my chronic pain continued to limit what I could do, and preparations carried on for Christopher and Sarah’s wedding.
Now there are only fifteen days left until I stand before my son and Sarah as both Christopher’s mother and their officiant.
Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I began to understand that loving people does not make me responsible for controlling every detail, solving every problem, or carrying every emotion in the room.
What Does Psalm 46:10 Mean?
Psalm 46 describes a world that feels unstable. The earth changes, mountains tremble, waters roar, and nations are in turmoil. Yet the psalm declares that God remains a refuge and a present source of strength.
Then comes the command:
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
These words are not a demand to hide our grief or remain silent about what hurts. They are not telling us to become passive or stop caring.
They call us to stop striving as though everything depends on us.
Being still means remembering who God is and who I am not. I can love, prepare, pray, serve, apologize, speak honestly, and make wise decisions. I cannot control another person’s heart, guarantee a peaceful outcome, prevent every disappointment, or protect everyone I love from pain.
Psalm 46 does not promise that grief will disappear, relationships will become uncomplicated, or an important day will unfold perfectly. It promises that God remains present and sovereign when life feels unsteady.
The invitation is not to stop loving.
It is to stop trying to be God for everyone I love.
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When Grief Changes the Shape of a Celebration
Louise’s death changed the shape of July.
Our family moved from preparing for a wedding to preparing for a funeral, knowing that the wedding was still only weeks away. The seating chart, flowers, ceremony notes, sunflower seed packets, and handmade projects remained on my dining room table, but grief was now present among them.
Louise should have been at the wedding.
Her absence will be felt by Sarah and by everyone who loved her. I wish I could make that part easier. I wish love gave me the ability to remove someone else’s pain.
It does not.
Love allows me to remain close. It lets me listen, offer practical help, pray, and make room for sorrow. Love does not give me control over how another person grieves or how quickly they feel ready to experience joy again.
Then July 16 arrived, marking ten years since my own dad passed away.
Ten years can sound like a long time until the date returns and an old grief suddenly feels close again. Some memories of my dad make me smile. Others remind me how much I still wish he were here.
This year, I was remembering my dad while watching Sarah face the fresh loss of her mother. Old grief and new grief sat beside each other.
I did not need to fix either one.
I needed to acknowledge them, bring them honestly before Christ, and stop expecting myself to make an unbearably difficult situation feel normal.
Fifteen Days Until My Son’s Wedding
The wedding is now only fifteen days away.
For months, our dining room table has looked more like a wedding workshop than a place to eat. The handfasting cord, seating chart, flowers, signs, seed packets, and ceremony notes have slowly taken shape there.
Each project has been an expression of love.
But even loving work can become unhealthy when I start believing everything must be perfect or that the outcome depends entirely on me.
I want Christopher and Sarah’s ceremony to be meaningful. I want them to feel loved and supported. I want the day to be peaceful. I want the people gathered there to remember why we have come together.
None of those desires are wrong.
The pressure begins when I decide it is my responsibility to make every person happy, prevent every uncomfortable moment, and manage how everyone behaves or feels.
I cannot do that.
I can prepare the ceremony and speak from my heart. I can wrap the handfasting cord around Christopher and Sarah’s joined hands. I can honour the love surrounding them and remember those who cannot be physically present.
I can show up as my son’s mother and their officiant.
I do not have to show up as the person responsible for holding the entire day together.
When Pressure Begins to Poison Something Good
Not all pressure comes from outside us.
Sometimes I create it myself.
I tell myself I should be able to do more. I should have more energy. I should finish everything without needing help. I should know how to keep everyone calm. I should not feel overwhelmed by something I have been looking forward to.
Those expectations can slowly poison something that began with love.
Wedding preparations become a test of my worth. Ministry becomes a measurement of productivity. Supporting someone becomes taking responsibility for their healing. Rest begins to feel like failure.
That is not the freedom Christ offers.
Jesus calls me to love people, but He does not ask me to control them. He calls me to serve, but He does not ask me to destroy my health while doing it. He calls me to be faithful, but He does not measure faithfulness by exhaustion.
There is a difference between offering what I genuinely have and forcing myself to produce what I do not have.
Thirty-One Years of Imperfect, Faithful Love
July also brought my thirty-first wedding anniversary.
After thirty-one years, I know that love cannot be forced into perfection. It grows through ordinary choices, difficult conversations, forgiveness, laughter, honesty, change, and the willingness to begin again.
Preparing for my son’s marriage while reflecting on my own reminded me that pressure does not create healthy love.
A beautiful ceremony cannot guarantee an easy marriage. Saying the right words cannot prevent every disagreement. Loving someone does not mean forcing them to grow according to my timing.
Love needs honesty, patience, freedom, and grace.
Christopher and Sarah will enter marriage as two real people with their own experiences, strengths, hopes, and wounds. They do not need to become perfect versions of themselves before they can build a life together.
They need room to be honest, to keep learning, and to choose love through the seasons ahead.
The same is true for all of us.
When My Body Refuses to Keep Pushing
Chronic pain has a way of exposing the difference between what I want to do and what I can realistically do.
My mind can create a long list before breakfast. My body sometimes reaches its limit after the first few tasks.
In July, there were days when I wanted to continue working, writing, creating, or preparing, but my body told me to stop. My first reaction was often frustration. There was too much to do and not enough energy to do it.
I am learning that pushing harder is not always the faithful response.
Sometimes faithfulness means closing the laptop.
Sometimes it means asking for help.
Sometimes it means leaving one wedding project unfinished until tomorrow.
Sometimes it means accepting that I cannot give people a healthy version of myself if I am constantly ignoring the limits God has asked me to honour.
Rest does not guarantee that life will immediately become easier. Being honest about my capacity will not make every responsibility disappear.
It does, however, help me stop building my life around pressure and begin living from a more truthful place.
Healing Journey with Christ Without the Pressure to Prove Myself
Healing Journey with Christ continued to grow throughout July.
I wrote devotionals, created resources, and shared encouragement for people walking through anxiety, grief, chronic pain, uncertainty, and spiritual exhaustion.
This ministry matters deeply to me, which is exactly why I have to be careful not to let pressure take over.
I do not need to publish constantly to prove that God called me. I do not need to exhaust myself to prove that I care. I do not need to measure the value of a devotional only by traffic, comments, subscribers, or immediate results.
I can offer my honest voice, my lived experience, and the Scripture that has been carrying me.
Then I can trust God with where those words go.
Showing up honestly does not mean life will instantly match my hopes. Scripture does not promise an effortless path when we become more authentic.
It does mean I am no longer spending all my energy performing, forcing, or pretending.
I can offer what is true and leave the results with Christ.
Releasing Pressure Without Abandoning Responsibility
Letting go of pressure does not mean ignoring what needs to be done. It means responding without treating every need as an emergency or every outcome as my responsibility.
1. Name the pressure clearly
Ask yourself what you believe you must make happen.
Do you feel responsible for another person’s happiness, healing, reaction, or decision? Are you expecting yourself to function beyond your actual capacity?
Naming the pressure helps separate a real responsibility from a burden you assumed.
2. Separate love from control
Love can prepare, listen, encourage, serve, and tell the truth. Love cannot force another person to respond well.
When you notice yourself trying to manage someone else’s emotions, pause and ask, “What is mine to do, and what must I leave with God?”
3. Offer your honest self
You do not have to hide your grief to protect a celebration. You do not have to pretend you are fine when you need rest or support.
Honesty can be gentle. It can sound like, “I care, but I cannot do that today,” or “I am grateful for this moment, and I am also grieving.”
4. Take one proportionate step
Choose the next action that matches your responsibility and capacity.
Make one phone call. Finish one necessary task. Ask one person for help. Say one prayer. Then pause before assuming you must do more.
5. Let God remain God
You are allowed to care deeply without carrying everything.
Psalm 46 invites us to stop striving and remember that God is still present when we cannot control what happens next.
What I Am Carrying Into August
July did not teach me how to become better at holding everything together.
It taught me to notice how much pressure I was carrying and how quickly that pressure could steal the peace from something rooted in love.
God was present when we mourned Louise. He was present when I remembered my dad ten years after his passing. He was present as I celebrated thirty-one years of marriage. He was present at my dining room table while the wedding pieces came together. He was present in my ministry and when chronic pain forced me to stop.
Now, with fifteen days until the wedding, I still have things to finish.
But I do not want to spend these final days trying to force every detail, person, and emotion into place. I want to be present. I want to offer my genuine love and trust God with what I cannot manage.
I am Christopher’s mother.
I am their officiant.
I am someone who loves this family deeply.
I do not have to be the person who fixes everything.
That is the truth I am carrying into August.
Journaling Through Pressure and Release
- What outcome have I been treating as though it depends entirely on me?
- Where has pressure begun to drain the joy from something I genuinely care about?
- Am I supporting someone, or have I started taking responsibility for emotions and choices that belong to them?
- What would showing up honestly look like in my current season?
- What is one burden I am ready to place back into God’s hands?
A Prayer for Releasing What I Cannot Carry
Jesus,
Thank You for meeting me in every part of July.
You were present in the grief, the wedding preparations, the anniversary memories, the physical limitations, and the work of this ministry.
Please remain close to Sarah and everyone grieving Louise. Help me offer love and support without believing I must take away pain that only You can hold.
Thank You for my dad and for the love and memories I still carry ten years after his passing.
Thank You for thirty-one years of marriage and for the grace that has met us in every season.
As Christopher and Sarah’s wedding approaches, help me prepare with care without surrendering my peace to pressure. Remind me that I cannot control every detail, reaction, or emotion.
Show me what is mine to do and give me the courage to release what is not.
Help me honour my physical limits, ask for help when I need it, and offer my honest self instead of trying to become everything for everyone.
Teach me to be still and remember that You are God.
Amen.
Continue Your Journey
If you are learning to love without trying to control every outcome, read When Love Is Woven by Hand. It reflects on preparing for Christopher and Sarah’s wedding while grief and celebration continue side by side.
If pressure and exhaustion have convinced you that slowing down means failing, When God Calls You to Slow Down Instead of Speed Up offers encouragement for trusting God’s pace.
If uncertainty keeps pulling your attention away from the present, The Seating Chart on My Dining Room Table explores what happens when plans change and there is nothing left to do but wait.
A Free Resource for This Season
The Learning to Trust 30-Day Scripture Reading Plan offers a simple daily passage for seasons when you cannot see what comes next or control how everything will unfold.
There is no pressure to complete it perfectly. Begin with one Scripture and allow God’s Word to meet you there.
Still Walking This Journey?
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Call to Connect
Has pressure ever made you feel responsible for more than God was asking you to carry?
You are welcome to share what you are learning in the comments or simply ask for prayer. You do not need to include private details.
Share Your Story
Has God helped you release control, honour your limits, or recognize that loving someone does not mean carrying everything for them?
Your experience could encourage someone who is exhausted from trying to hold everyone and everything together.
