Page 27 of Kayak Girl

Several minutes later, I was knocking on the door to the reception office.

“Come in,” Brenda called.

I pushed the door open and allowed the smell of strawberries to settle my nerves.

Brenda was seated behind her desk with a small mirror set up in front of her. “Hi sweetie, what’s up? You know we don’t cater for the leaders on the weekend? I hope you aren’t looking for dinner?”

“No, I already ate. I was hoping I could have a cup of tea and chat with you about something. If you aren’t busy?”

“Oh, I was just practicing my contouring skills,” Brenda said, tapping her nose. “Come on back to the kitchen, and I’ll make us a cup of tea.”

I could see the evidence of Brenda’s “contouring” all over her face. If I wasn’t so upset, I may have giggled at the sight. I followed her back, glad to see she was limping less. Brenda put the kettle on and turned a motherly look my way (well, as motherly as an overly contoured face could look).

“What’s bugging you, hon?”

Faced with the direct question, vulnerability flooded my system. I hesitated, uncertain if I could truly share my struggles with Brenda. Opting for a less direct approach, I said, “Well, I have a friend who’s going through a difficult time, and I’m not sure what to advise her. I was hoping you could help?”

Brenda smiled warmly. “That’s what I’m here for. What’s bothering her?”

I gave myself a hug and began, “You see, as a child, she was forced to be the responsible family member. Now she’s an adult and trying to escape responsibility for a bit, but it seems to always catch up with her.”

Brenda’s expression softened. “That sounds really tough. Let’s pretend the friend is you for a moment.”

Heat crept up my neck as I realized that my thinly veiled attempt to discuss my own issues hadn’t fooled Brenda one bit. “Okay,” I conceded.

“What do you mean by responsibility?” she asked, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, inviting yet cautious.

Tears welled up in my eyes. A lump formed in my throat as I stammered out my confession. “Well, life, paying bills, confessing mistakes... they all feel too hard. I want to run away from all of it.” I looked at my hands, they were trembling.

Brenda’s response was immediate and nurturing. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, her touch grounding me. “I think that might be your problem,” she began, her voice soothing. “God created us to need food, water, air, relationships, shelter, and work. These things all require responsibility.”

I looked up at her, finding a well of empathy in her eyes.

She continued, “But I think you have an incorrect understanding of responsibility. It’s not a bad thing. Sure, it’s not meant to be a burden for young children to carry. I’m so sorry you had to carry that burden so young. But responsibility is a healthy part of adult life. Just like Pastor Jim preached on Sunday. Hard work is a gift from God. We function best when we have a purpose and are involved in rewarding work. I believe you’ll never be able to escape something that God wove into your very being.”

I smiled regretfully. “It’s not the answer I was looking for. Back home, I’d just live for the weekend and the odd vacation. I figured if I turned my life into a permanent vacation, it would solve all my problems. It kinda sucks that it didn’t work.”

Brenda nodded. “I’m sure, honey. We live in a world that often whispers misleading promises. We’re made to believe that less work, more vacation, and more stuff will lead to happiness. But it’s just not true. True happiness can only be found in your relationship with God. However, if you’ve been dealing with adult responsibility from a young age, you’re probably tired from dragging that baggage around with you everywhere. But did you know we don’t have to carry our past around with us forever? God came to save us from our sins, and to restore and free us from pasts exactly like yours.”

I shifted on my feet. “I’m a Christian, so why is my past still weighing me down? Not to mention all the therapy I’ve done,” I said, my brows knitting together in confusion.

“Becoming a Christian means your relationship with God is restored, but it doesn’t instantly heal all inner wounds,” she explained, her voice steady and reassuring. “That’s a privilege you get to experience as you walk with God. You need to invite Him into those spaces and ask for His healing touch.”

I nodded and took a deep breath.

“You can ask God to help you let go of the past. I think it’s hard for you to accept today’s responsibility when you view it, considering all the responsibility you’ve had to deal with in the past. Each time you’re faced with a fresh responsibility, remind yourself, that was then—this is now. Take each additional responsibility as its own challenge, not as the last straw on a pile of a million others.”

Brenda’s words set my mind abuzz with different thoughts and questions I’d never considered. “Thanks, Brenda. You’ve given me a lot to think about. How’d you get to be so wise?”

She sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ve had my own experience with stuff like this, and what’s worse is I only confronted it when I had children. I realized I was bringing all my resentment, exhaustion, and frustration from my past and using it as the lens through which I saw my kids. It wasn’t fair to them. I had to make a change.”

“How did you change?”

The edges of Brenda’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Through prayer. And the best tool my counselor gave me was the phrase ‘that was then—this is now’. Anytime I got overwhelmed by feelings from my past, I would remind myself of that. This responsibility I chose. I chose to have kids and I could choose to parent them. A few seconds to shift your perspective can make a world of difference.”

I smiled through my tears. “Brenda, you’re one strong woman.”

“So are you, sweetheart. Now I’d better get home to Dave, but you call me if you need anything else, okay?”

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