“When everyone is born, God gives them a little basket. This little one is yours. The big one is mine. As you grow, so does the basket. But if you notice, your little basket is inside of mine. Why? Because when you were born, there were too many things you couldn’t do for yourself. I had the responsibility of feeding you, changing you, bathing you, and everything else you couldn’t do on your own. So I put your basket in mine and I carry them both – for awhile.

“As you grew older and began to do some things on your own, I began placing a few more things in your basket. When you learned to tie your shoes, that went in your basket. You wouldn’t want me tying your shoes now that you can do it on your own. And when you learned how to put on your own clothes, I put that in your basket. You wouldn’t want me in charge of dressing you now, would you?”

She shook her head defiantly.

“Now, as you grow older, there will be more and more things you must do on your own. You will eventually carry your own basket, with things only you can do, like deciding who you want to be friends with, who you will date, who you will marry, what college you will go to…” and with that last note, I handed her the smaller basket.

She looked up at me and said, “I understand. There are some things that I have to do for myself because they are in my basket.”

“Yes,” I replied, “but it’s even more than that. For you decide the things that belong in your basket, or someone else’s. Like now, you decide what to do about your friend being upset with you. If your friend doesn’t like your decision and gets angry, then whose basket needs to hold her anger?”

She replied with a smile, “HER basket!”

As she began to fully grasp my meaning, I became lost in my own thoughts of my mother and grandmother who were living with us at that time, reminiscing of the things they used to do for me that now I do for them. I held up the big basket and said, “One day when I’m much older, there will be things I can no longer carry in my basket. When that time comes, eventually you will begin taking things out of my basket and placing them into your own. Just like I do now for Grandma and Memaw. Eventually, the things that are in my basket will be taken out, for I won’t always be strong enough to carry everything I’m carrying right now.”

Life is a circle.

I reached over and gently took her tiny basket from her hands and traded with her. As she felt the large handle of the big basket and watched me take the little one, she understood. Softly, I said, “Life is a circle.”

Placing the baskets back on the shelf, my own mother approached me and asked me what I was doing. I gave her my smug overview of the impromptu skit, feeling quite proud of myself. Mom simply smiled. However, a few days later, I was surprised to see one of the tiniest baskets I’ve ever seen perched on the top of my computer. It was small enough to hide in the palm of my hand. Underneath it was a note, in my mother’s handwriting, that said simply, “Just remember, your basket isn’t nearly as big as you think it is. Love, Mom.”

Since then, I have amended my basket story. My basket now fits in the palm of my hand. I choose what goes in it and what doesn’t. I also choose if and when I want to help carry someone else’s basket. But God holds the biggest basket of all, as big as the palm of His hand. Life works best when I keep my basket inside of His and let Him carry it – regardless of my age or capabilities.