Carrying Myself

We have had a bout of sickness in our house this week.
All week.
Fevers, coughing...and much much more I will spare you the details of.
As a result, both children are tired and sore, just from the overuse of certain muscles it takes to cough and...other things.
(See? I'm really trying to be socially polite. Aren't you impressed?)

Ellie was lying in bed about to go to sleep last night, when I came into her room.
"Mom, my legs hurt from carrying myself."
I really did try to suppress a smile, but was unsuccessful.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Because I love you so much. I'm sorry your legs hurt."
"It's okay, Mom. Love you, night," she replied, rolling over and closing her eyes.
"I love you too, baby," I said, kissing her.

I was still smiling as I walked into the living room, thinking about Ellie's comment.
Then it hit me.
How many times do I wear myself out from all the effort of trying to do everything I want to do for my family, ministry, and friends? It's pretty common, I think, with us girls.
And my legs have hurt from carrying myself.
Jesus was waiting all along to carry me when I was overwhelmed.
But sometimes, I just pick up rocks too heavy for me. (I don't have a link to the exact post, but Mama Belle wrote a post awhile back about laying down what Jesus hasn't asked you to carry. It's really good.)
Didn't our Father say, "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light."