I trudged up the hill, towing my two suitcases, with my computer bag balanced precariously across the slide-out carrying handle of the largest bag, and my purse slung over my head and down my right side. Every 20 to 30 feet I would stop, winded by the hill, the extra weight, and the altitude - 3500 feet above sea level doesn't sound like much unless you're from sea level - I could feel myself perspiring heavily. My hair stuck to my face. Fortunately ... it wasn't raining.
Someone had given me these directions and I was following them to the best of my ability. I hadn't reached the top of the hill when I saw a man carrying a blue, lightweight tote on the other side of the road, going in the opposite direction. I was puffing and panting by this point. All sense of dignity had been lost. I was in refugee mode - quite literally - fleeing a situation of my own making which had gotten wildly out of control.
The man slowed down. He stopped. "Could you use a hand?" he called to me.
My pride was nil. "Wow! I sure could!" I stopped and rested my bags on their wheels on the concrete sidewalk.
He came over and asked me where I was going. "Student Residence B" I said, indicating my first stop: residence services where I would get my key. He took the heaviest bag with the computer bag resting on it. Then he gave me his tote bag - it literally weighed only a few ounces. I hitched up my purse and reached for my wheeled duffle bag. "No, you've carried that long enough," he said. "I'll carry your bags and you carry mine. Let's enjoy the rest of this walk."
I was so flustered and grateful that I knew that if I wasn't so exhausted I would have cried... I just didn't have the energy; it had been a tumultuous week. Meekly I let him carry my load - some good thirty-five pounds worth of it - while I walked easily beside him.
He made conversation, asked me where I was from and when I told him, he said that he had lived there for 20 years and started a company there. I had heard of the company! He asked about my family (this happens all the time where I live, it's called "who's your father?") and it turned out that he knew of some people who were related to my husband.
When we got to the destination, he opened the doors for me and set my luggage back down on the floor, and asked for his tote back. We parted ways and I thanked him once again for having compassion on me. And after he was gone, I thanked God for the kind detour this man took because he saw I was in distress. (By the time I got to my residence, I was beet red in the face from exertion.)
That was the first of many kindnesses I was shown that day. A kind cabbie who took my bags, another who helped me with my groceries and gave me a discount because he got lost and I didn't have the precise address, etc., but the thing that sticks out for me is this man who traded his light package for all of mine. He did so, in order that I might enjoy the walk.
I could not help but draw parallels between that experience and the invitation of Jesus: "Come to Me, all you who labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke (my helping, my partnering with you) upon you, and learn from me, for I am meek and lowly, and you shall find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11: 28 - 30)
Can it be that simple? giving Him our burden in exchange for His? Apparently so. He can understand the most anguished cry, the smallest whimper, the silent pleading, tears in the dark, everything. And He invites us to trade that load for His, which is easy, because it doesn't burden people with shoulds and rules; His load is simply love. He invites us to come to Him and - if we need to - fall apart in His arms; He will hold us. He already took all that hurt away anyway. Let's let ourselves be loved. It's okay. It is really okay.
Someone had given me these directions and I was following them to the best of my ability. I hadn't reached the top of the hill when I saw a man carrying a blue, lightweight tote on the other side of the road, going in the opposite direction. I was puffing and panting by this point. All sense of dignity had been lost. I was in refugee mode - quite literally - fleeing a situation of my own making which had gotten wildly out of control.
The man slowed down. He stopped. "Could you use a hand?" he called to me.
My pride was nil. "Wow! I sure could!" I stopped and rested my bags on their wheels on the concrete sidewalk.
He came over and asked me where I was going. "Student Residence B" I said, indicating my first stop: residence services where I would get my key. He took the heaviest bag with the computer bag resting on it. Then he gave me his tote bag - it literally weighed only a few ounces. I hitched up my purse and reached for my wheeled duffle bag. "No, you've carried that long enough," he said. "I'll carry your bags and you carry mine. Let's enjoy the rest of this walk."
I was so flustered and grateful that I knew that if I wasn't so exhausted I would have cried... I just didn't have the energy; it had been a tumultuous week. Meekly I let him carry my load - some good thirty-five pounds worth of it - while I walked easily beside him.
He made conversation, asked me where I was from and when I told him, he said that he had lived there for 20 years and started a company there. I had heard of the company! He asked about my family (this happens all the time where I live, it's called "who's your father?") and it turned out that he knew of some people who were related to my husband.
When we got to the destination, he opened the doors for me and set my luggage back down on the floor, and asked for his tote back. We parted ways and I thanked him once again for having compassion on me. And after he was gone, I thanked God for the kind detour this man took because he saw I was in distress. (By the time I got to my residence, I was beet red in the face from exertion.)
That was the first of many kindnesses I was shown that day. A kind cabbie who took my bags, another who helped me with my groceries and gave me a discount because he got lost and I didn't have the precise address, etc., but the thing that sticks out for me is this man who traded his light package for all of mine. He did so, in order that I might enjoy the walk.
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| Photo "Loving Father And His Baby" by David Castillo Dominici at www.freedigitalphotos.net |
Can it be that simple? giving Him our burden in exchange for His? Apparently so. He can understand the most anguished cry, the smallest whimper, the silent pleading, tears in the dark, everything. And He invites us to trade that load for His, which is easy, because it doesn't burden people with shoulds and rules; His load is simply love. He invites us to come to Him and - if we need to - fall apart in His arms; He will hold us. He already took all that hurt away anyway. Let's let ourselves be loved. It's okay. It is really okay.
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