The Worth and Weight of What We Carry

Tasks, Projects, and Events: A Thought that Shifted My Perspective

During a recent professional development session for work, the facilitator asked us to define the difference between tasks, projects, and events.

At the time, it seemed like a simple conversation about productivity — how we organize and prioritize what we do. But the more I processed the question, the more I realized that for me, it wasn’t about work performance at all. It was about perspective — about where we place our value and our focus on the things that matter to us.

The truth is, our perspective determines our priorities. Every task we take on and every goal we chase quietly tells the story of what truly deserves our time, attention, and intention.

What We Call It Reveals How We Carry It

A task is usually simple — something to get done, a checkmark on the list:

• Pay a bill
• Fold laundry
• Cook dinner
• Drop child off at school

Necessary, but not necessarily transformative.

A project is something new. It calls for creativity, focused attention, and possible collaboration. It’s when we put our heart into shaping something that doesn’t already exist. It requires planning and patience, but it also involves projection, because not everything is known, nor can the outcomes be guaranteed.

And then there’s an event. The moment where everything comes together. The visible result. The celebration that says, “It is finished! I did it!”

The Balance Between What We Do and What We Carry

But the longer I thought about it, the more I realized these aren’t just categories of work. They’re ways of being.

As an author, I see it in my own rhythm. Completing a copyright application or finishing a chapter? Those are tasks — necessary steps that need to be taken to move the process forward. Then, each new book idea is a project — something that starts as a vision and takes shape over time. Finally, when the book is published and it’s time for the official launch and book signing—that’s the event. The evidence of what once only lived in my mind has come to fruition — the celebration.

And it’s not just true for me. Those same rhythms of tasks, projects, and events reveal themselves in life — how we plan, how we prioritize, and how we show up.

Some people live in “task mode” — checking boxes and calling it progress, yet missing the deeper purpose that gives those boxes meaning.

Some live in “project mode” — always building, rarely resting. They move from one vision to the next, but sometimes forget that fulfillment comes not just from creating, but from connecting.

Still, some live for the “event” — the outcome, the applause, the moment of accomplishment — yet find themselves so caught in the details that they forget to be fully present in it.

Each mode serves its purpose, but how we approach them shapes both what they become and who we become through them. Maybe the secret isn’t choosing one; it’s learning when each is appropriate.

The Worth of the Weight

For my mother’s recent 70th birthday celebration, I planned what I coined as “Purple, Pearls, and Pralines” — a theme that represented strength, longevity, and Louisiana culture.

As I began planning, anxiousness started to set in. Yes, the celebration would be both beautiful and meaningful, but trying to coordinate the logistics in Louisiana from Georgia was more than a notion.

I’m a visual person, so it was hard for me to picture the setup, decorations, and other details without a blueprint to follow. Quickly, planning my mom’s special day felt like a full-scale project — every detail, every vendor, every backup plan. And still, I found myself reminded that sometimes, even with preparation, life adjusts the plan. The weather shifts. The venue changes. The guest list grows.

What I have learned about life is that both burdens and blessings are heavy. So, though I was planning a celebration, the details felt daunting.

“Just Because She Carries It Well Doesn’t Mean It’s Not Heavy.”

To give some context, my mom has been the model of grace and grit — a woman who carried her own weight so well that I didn’t realize until later how much she was holding. But someone once said, “Just because she carries it well doesn’t mean it’s not heavy.”

Celebrating her reminded me that what we carry for others isn’t always seen, but it’s always felt.

She was a teenage mother — married, raising me at 18 — navigating life, segregation, and a world that didn’t always give her the same access it gave me. My mom was among the first to integrate her high school. She paved a path where there wasn’t one.

And though I would later hold titles and positions she never had the opportunity to, her sacrifices — her willingness to carry what was heavy — became the ground beneath my feet.

Her 70th year, according to Psalm 90:10 (NKJV), marks a year of promise:

“The days of our lives are seventy years; and if by reason of strength they are eighty years…”

When the Weight Reveals Itself

The morning of her celebration, I woke up with a crook in my neck. It wasn’t from sleeping wrong — it was from the weight of mentally and emotionally carrying everything. My mind had been processing every detail, and my body finally spoke up.

What this reminded me was that our bodies will reveal in us what our minds try to manage in silence.

I had to admit — I hadn’t shared the weight as I should have. I had worked to manage it all because I understood it. It was all coming together in my mind. But being a visionary doesn’t mean being the only one carrying the vision.

After the event, my body was, as elders used to say, “racking with pain.” I ached from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. So much so, I had to take some Tylenol PM just to get some semblance of relief. Fortunately, when I woke up the next morning, a lot of that heaviness had lifted.

Rest gave me clarity.

Looking back on the day holistically, I realized that while I was trying to carry everything myself, I could have brought others in from the beginning. What I learned was that when my family — my husband, dad, brothers, sister, sister-in-law, and cousins — each stepped in to offer support and lend a hand, their involvement didn’t just ease the weight; it added beauty to the moment.

It reminded me that strength isn’t proven by doing everything alone. It’s revealed when we allow others to share the load.

We Are Fruit Bearers

John 15:16 (NKJV)
“You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should remain…”

We were never called to simply bear fruit — we were called to multiply it. Fruit isn’t a trophy; it’s a testimony. One apple doesn’t just have the capacity to produce another apple; it carries enough seeds to generate five or six more apple trees.

That’s the assignment — to be fruitful in a way that others can grow from your example. Whether in family, ministry, or community, our impact should keep reproducing long after the moment passes. The evidence of good fruit is that it never stops producing.

And that’s our calling, too: to build what outlives us, to pour out what’s been poured in, to keep planting even after the harvest is done, because the real measure of fruit isn’t in how it tastes, but in what it produces next.

The Weight of What We Carry

As I think back on that professional development session — tasks, projects, events — I realize now more than ever…it was never just about how much we could do. It was about what truly mattered in what we were doing. What we carry and how we prioritize it reveal more than our work ethic; they reveal our values.

What we value most often feels heavier. The weight isn’t wrong — it’s a reflection of what matters deeply to us. Still, there’s wisdom in knowing when that weight has shifted from purpose to pressure — when we’ve tried to manage it all alone instead of allowing collaboration to lighten the load.

Balancing the Weight

I saw that in planning my mom’s celebration. As the oldest child, it was important for me to honor her. So, I shouldered weight that wasn’t necessarily asked of me, required, or expected by anyone else. And though I did a lot that was appreciated, the day became most meaningful not because of what I provided, but because of the collective presence and effort of everyone in my mother’s life.

When we learn to balance life’s junctures — the tasks, the projects, the events… When we learn to reflect, to share, and to allow others to help us carry valued moments — we realize that the real strength isn’t in carrying it all, but in carrying it well.

What We Carry Forward

What we do, at any level, reveals where our values truly lie: how we prepare, how we choose to show up, and who we invite to stand with us.

Even in instances that feel heavy or uncertain, there’s purpose in the process. Scripture reminds us:

“For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” — 2 Corinthians 4:17 (NKJV)

That verse can help us reframe how we see the weight we carry. The challenges and responsibilities that press us now are actually preparing us for something greater — something lasting. The goal isn’t to avoid the weight but to carry it with faith and perspective, knowing that what’s being shaped in us far outweighs what we see in the moment.

Maybe that’s the lesson. The worth and the weight were never meant to compete; they remind us that everything we carry matters. How we carry it determines what it becomes — and the fruit that remains when the work is done.

Carrying It Together

At the end of every task, project, or event, what endures isn’t just the outcome. It’s the growth we gain and the grace we give along the way. Because in the end, the weight we carry becomes the legacy we leave — in our families, our work, and the lives we quietly lift along the way.

The worth of what we carry isn’t found in how much we hold, but in how we share it — with the people beside us, the generations behind us, and the purpose still ahead. That’s what my mother’s life, and that day of celebration, reminded me most: that what we carry together becomes what carries us forward.

And on that day, all gathered together with family and friends, I saw the beauty of that truth unfold — four generations gathered in love, each one standing on the shoulders of those who came before.

Four generations strong — Isaiah and Anna’s legacy — and only one Lynda Lucille.

Happy Birthday, Momma. 💜
You were WORTH the WEIGHT.

Love,
~Nikki