Outside the box… [a poem]

My brain is full of boxes,
Each one labeled with a name.
There’s one for music, one for family,
One for wealth and fame.

Most contain a few things,
Though they’re constantly adjusting.
But there’s one box—marked “Troubles”—
Which is always full to busting.

Oh, sure, a major problem
Can fill up that box, it’s true,
But even tiny issues
Will expand to fill it, too.

I’m skilled at taking molehills and,
When once I’ve started countin’,
I find I don’t have faith to move
That self-created mountain.

I magnify my troubles
‘Til it seems they grow so large
They block my view of that One who
Should always be in charge.

I need some help rememb’ring,
When my “Troubles” box gets fat,
I will always hear Him say to me,
“Here, let me carry that.”