boundaries

I’m Learning What I Can Carry

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There are some things I’ve realized I carry without even noticing.

Other people’s expectations.
Their discomfort.
Their silence.
Their need for things to stay easy.

And in a lot of ways, it’s not accidental.

Sometimes, people do ask you to carry it.
Sometimes it’s implied.
Sometimes it’s expected.

Carry this so things don’t get harder.
Carry this so we don’t have to talk about it.
Carry this quietly — and preferably without complaint.

And for a long time, I did.

I told myself it was kindness.
That it was maturity.
That this was just what you do when you love people or want peace.

But there’s a difference between being generous
and being weighed down.

Lately, I’ve been asking myself a quieter, braver question:
Is this something I can carry without losing myself?

Because some burdens don’t just make you tired —
they slowly teach you to disappear.

I’m learning that it’s okay to name discomfort.
That it’s okay to acknowledge the weight.
That carrying something doesn’t mean I’m required to carry it forever.

I can still be compassionate without being silent.
Faithful without being compliant.
Present without absorbing what was never mine to hold alone.

That’s the work right now.

Not rejecting responsibility —
but choosing honesty.

Learning what I can carry.
And trusting God with the rest.

“For each one should carry their own load.”
— Galatians 6:5 (NIV)

What I Don’t Owe an Explanation For

/ Baylee Snelling / 2 Comments

I’ve noticed something about myself lately.

How quickly I start explaining.
Softening.
Adding context.
Filling in gaps no one actually asked me to fill.

As if my choices need to be justified to be valid.
As if my boundaries need a backstory to be respected.
As if my silence needs a footnote.

But the truth is — not everything in my life requires an explanation.

Not my pace.
Not my decisions.
Not what I’m holding close.
Not what I’m choosing to keep private.

Some things are allowed to just be.
Allowed to exist without permission.
Allowed to make sense only to the ones living them.

I’m learning that constant explanation is often rooted in fear —
fear of being misunderstood,
fear of disappointing,
fear of being seen as too much or not enough.

And I don’t want to live from that place anymore.

I want to trust myself enough to let my “no” stand on its own.
To let my “yes” be simple.
To let my life speak without me narrating every chapter.

This isn’t about becoming closed off.
It’s about becoming settled.

Because the more honest I am with myself,
the less I feel the need to convince anyone else.

And that kind of quiet confidence?
It feels like peace.

“A person’s wisdom yields patience; it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense.”
— Proverbs 19:11 (NIV)

The Boundary of Grace

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

We’re called to give.
To serve.
To love freely and fully.

But what happens when the giving leaves us empty?
When our “yes” becomes so stretched that it starts to break us?
When helping starts to feel more like being used than being useful?

Scripture tells us to give without expecting anything in return —
but it never says to give without wisdom.

Even Jesus — fully God, fully love — stepped away to rest.
He said no to the crowd, so He could say yes to the Father.
He gave, but He didn’t give Himself away recklessly.

There is a kind of giving that reflects God’s heart.
And there is a kind that forgets He gave you one, too.

So if you’re in a season where it feels like your love is being taken for granted,
where your kindness keeps getting confused with availability,
where your serving has started to hurt —

you’re allowed to pause.

Not from love.
Not from grace.
But from saying yes to what God never asked of you.

Protecting your peace doesn’t make you selfish.
It makes you a good steward of the one life He’s given you.

So give —
but don’t pour from an empty cup.
Love —
but not at the cost of losing yourself.
Serve —
but let it come from a place of overflow, not obligation.

Your worth isn’t proven by how much you can stretch.
It’s held — always — in the hands of the One who stretched Himself for you.

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”
— Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

Use Me, Lord — But Gently

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There’s a quiet prayer I’ve found myself repeating lately:
“Use me, Lord… but gently.”

Not because I’m unwilling.
But because I’ve walked through seasons where my yes was misused.
Where my willingness was mistaken for weakness.
Where I gave freely — and it cost me more than it should have.

But when God calls, He doesn’t use us like that.
He doesn’t push past our boundaries or pull us into places that harm.
His voice doesn’t manipulate.
It invites.

And His use doesn’t leave me empty — it brings me back to life.

So I’m learning to trust this:
That when I surrender to Him, it won’t break me.
It will grow me.
Heal me.
Steady me.

And when I say yes from this place,
it won’t be out of pressure —
but peace.

So Lord, here I am.
Still willing.
Still soft.
Still Yours.
Use me — in ways that make me more whole,
not less.

“But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.”
— Psalm 86:15 (NIV)