Does God wear a belly pack?

Ten bags of books that will bless and mold in someone else's shelves are now in the car, ready to go off to be donated. I still have hundreds of books remaining.
"Who could read so many books anyway!" said Asherel as I gazed a little wistfully at my books that were soon to be adopted out.
"I did!" I said, "I have read every one of them." (some two or three times!)
I pulled Ulysees by James Joyce out. I have never gotten past about page 300 of this thousand or so page behemoth.
"I'll keep trying with this one," I said, putting it back.

And so the newly dusted, book-denuded living room looks better, though if someone with decorating sense would walk in and work a little magic, I think I would have a better shot at the cover of "Home Beautiful."

I sat down in the chair by the nice clean bookshelf. Now as my books were arranged somewhat by topic and size, my photo albums on the bottom shelf, it was easier to grab what I wanted. I pulled out a little photo album that had been deeply buried behind dusty old books. As I opened it, and began to relive my life 20 years ago, I wondered if I would have remembered any of it had I not had the pictures.
"It is almost as though I were never there," I thought a little sadly. Because of my lousy memory, the only moment I really have is the one I am living.

My eyes fell on a picture of my boys when they were 4 and 6. Anders has his arms outstretched, in a most uncharacteristic pose of joy and uninhibited delight. Matthias has a tough guy look on his cute little face, arms in a fighter stance and feet somewhat akimbo. And he is wearing a bright orange belly pack. Yes folks, I am sure I am about to be carted away by Social Services.... I put my 4 year old son in an orange belly pack.
This is the newly engaged son, now 22, whose first horrified admission to his fiancee about his family was that , "My mother wears a belly pack."

Honestly, I do not remember that I had done that. But I must have. The evidence is conclusive. And as I perused the little dusty album, I discovered that on our trip to Washington, DC, I had put both boys in a belly pack. It's a wonder they grew up to have any friends at all. Asherel would have had many belly pack pictures as well, but now I am vaguely remembering that she refused to wear belly packs.

"Oh Lord, forgive me," I breathed, "I know not what I do."

How many other horrible things had I done to those sweet innocent creatures, not realizing that I was not normal? I meant well. They had valuable things to carry on those outings, things that would fall out of little rambunctious pockets. The belly pack was a burden of love. In my own belly pack were all the things needed to mend knees that had torn, heads that were aching, and candy to soothe the wild beasts that always showed up at the end of our long treks to wonderful places.

And I think there is a good bit of evidence that God Himself wears a belly pack. Do a word search and see how often the Bible tells us that God carries our burdens for us. There are roughly six and a half billion people on the earth. Simple logic tells us there is no way God can carry all that without a belly pack.

But whether or not He wears a belly pack is up for discussion. Greater minds than mine will wrestle with that question for millenium. What is clearly stated is that when our burdens are too great, we don't need a belly pack. God will carry them for us.

Psalm 28:8-9 (New International Version)

 ⁸ The LORD is the strength of his people,
   a fortress of salvation for his anointed one.
⁹ Save your people and bless your inheritance;
   be their shepherd and carry them forever.