The Burden

An old man died last night.  He was an old preacher, an old printer, and old scientist and an old friend.  He was a hospice patient but not assigned to me, not even in my area or out of my office but he is, nonetheless, my responsibility.

While no one would expect me to attend to his funeral and his family as they reside totally out of my service area, I feel a burden to be there for the family and to show honor to this old friend because he is a friend and his family means something to me.

The burden is not something difficult to bear, it is something laid upon my heart that is heavy with a desire to take on an additional responsibility when I'm already feeling the pinch of covering all the bases I have before me this week.  Whatever else I find time to address this week, I must see to his family and officiate at his funeral as asked.

While my burden in no way compares to Jesus' crucifixion, I am reminded of his words as he shared his burden with his disciples, when he said that he "must go to Jerusalem" (Matt 16:21).  What the Father had laid upon his heart became his heart's desire.  There was no question as to what he was going to do - whatever else happened, he was going to Jerusalem.

Burdens like this are not burdensome in the classic sense but rather a heaviness to the heart that compels one to take action, to be available to be a part.  The heaviness is not something that weighs one down but rather something one desires to take up.  As the old song goes about the man who carried the cripple,  "He ain't heavy, he's my brother."

The old man, preacher, scientist, and screen printer was my friend whom I visited every week for nearly two years as he attended to wife of failing mind and body taken by Alzheimer's Disease.  She was his burden and the love of his life, a burden he would not have passed on for anything in the world.  How could I pass on the burden I feel for this man?  I cannot.  Jus Say'n and feel'n.