This morning, somewhere between your first step on the floor to your last step out the door, you stuffed your bag full. No, not your purse, or a diaper bag, or your child''s lunch box, but one created in your mind. And you didn''t stuff it with books, band-aids, or baby food-you filled it with burdens. The kind of burdens moms carry.

The suitcase of guilt. A sack of discontent. You drape a duffel bag of weariness on one shoulder and a hanging bag of worry on the other. No wonder you''re so tired at the end of the day. Toting those kind of bags is exhausting.

Why don''t you try traveling light? Try it for the sake of those you love so dearly: your husband, your children, your parents. Have you ever considered the impact that excess baggage has on relationships?

God wants to use you, you know. But how can he if you''re exhausted?

Using the comforting message of the twenty-third Psalm, Max Lucado reminds mothers to listen to God''s tender voice urging us to release those burdens we were never meant to bear.

This morning, somewhere between your first step on the floor to your last step out the door, you stuffed your bag full. No, not your purse, or a diaper bag, or your child''s lunch box, but one created in your mind. And you didn''t stuff it with books, band-aids, or baby food-you filled it with burdens. The kind of burdens moms carry.

The suitcase of guilt. A sack of discontent. You drape a duffel bag of weariness on one shoulder and a hanging bag of worry on the other. No wonder you''re so tired at the end of the day. Toting those kind of bags is exhausting.

Why don''t you try traveling light? Try it for the sake of those you love so dearly: your husband, your children, your parents. Have you ever considered the impact that excess baggage has on relationships?

God wants to use you, you know. But how can he if you''re exhausted?

Using the comforting message of the twenty-third Psalm, Max Lucado reminds mothers to listen to God''s tender voice urging us to release those burdens we were never meant to bear.