The Things We Carry

 This weekend, I was reminded that sometimes people are carrying far more than we realize. While volunteering, a lady shared part of her story with me. She spoke about her marriage, the constant threats of being abandoned, the financial responsibilities she carries, and the emotional weight of living with someone she feels is unwilling to change.

I sat there listening, wondering what you are supposed to do when someone tells you that home, the very place they should find peace, has become a source of distress. You listen, you offer a few words, perhaps you pray together, and then what? You watch them return to the same environment that is hurting them.

It made me wonder: Have we forgotten how to disagree without destroying each other? Why has threatening to leave, belittling someone, or reaching for the one thing that will hurt them most become part of how we handle conflict? Whatever happened to resolving disagreements without making the other person question their worth or their place in your life?

Another thing she said stayed with me. She felt she couldn't blame God because she hadn't consulted Him when choosing her husband.

But does faith mean that when life goes wrong, we must assume we somehow failed God? Does prayer become less meaningful because we didn't specifically pray about one decision? And what exactly would the sign we asked for have looked like?

I believe in prayer. But I also believe that faith without action is dead. Sometimes action means seeking counseling, asking for help, setting boundaries, or making difficult decisions. Prayer shouldn't become a reason to endure indefinitely what requires intervention.

Of course, I don't know their entire story, and I am not qualified to decide what should happen in their marriage. But I keep thinking about how many people appear perfectly fine in public while quietly struggling in private.

We talk about therapy, churches, community and support systems. But are these spaces accessible, safe, and equipped to help people navigate the things they carry? And when someone finally opens up, are we prepared to listen beyond saying, “Pray about it”?

Perhaps listening is already something. We may not have solutions, but we can create room for honesty without judgement. Still, I wish we lived in a world where people didn't have to become overwhelmed before they felt they could speak. How many people around us are simply surviving, while we assume they are living?