come, heavy-laden

Palm Sunday marked the fifth anniversary of Hallie’s death.  Her passing had been a long time coming: ten years of sickness, five of total care at home, and a final weekend in a hospital.  So, it was no surprise when she moved on.  God had prepared us in grieving long in advance for our separation, for her reunion with Him, and for my finding a deeper life just with Him over the five years since.

Palm Sunday is normally a joyous celebration for me, a powerful start to Holy Week, my favorite season of the church year.  But this year, the day was filled with fresh grief.  Hallie was gone, and I was feeling it, deep and hard.  I was with friends, but was alone.  I was in worship, but I felt distant from God.  I was preaching, but it seemed like empty words.  Later in the day, my daughters and grandchildren came for dinner, but it only seemed to render Hallie further away.  I carried this deep sadness into Holy Week, on and off, off and on. 

On Maundy Thursday, I was at a convent with its sisters, whom I love, helping them pack before they move south.  I came to serve them, but ended up being served. The evening liturgy remembered Jesus’ last supper, His washing disciples’ feet and sharing the bread and wine, His Body and His Blood.  As my feet were washed during the service, I felt as if it was Jesus’ hands washing me, and not just my feet, but also my hands and my head, all of me.  I believe I heard Him say, “I know it’s been hard for you these five years.  You have been heavy-laden, as I was on that Thursday night.”  I remembered His Invitation: Come to Me, you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.  Be yoked to Me and learn from Me, so that you can find rest for your soul (Matthew 11:28-29).

The relief of tears came.  My hidden grief was exposed.  I’m yoked to Jesus in it, so that I can learn from Him how to live, now.  And there’s a real and restful Hope for the life to come, until I see Him, and her, face-to-face.