Burdens are Meant to be Shared by Quita Feeley

Burdens are meant to be Shared By Quita Feeley

Everyone has burdens to carry —
some in small neatly packed bundles,
others that seem to arrive in dump trucks.
Some seem only moderately heavy at first,
but often pick up poundage along the way;
Others make it too unmanageable to even lift our heads.

At times, our burdens are invisible to onlookers
but at other times, a flashing neon light for all to see.
We try and tuck them away, trying to bear them alone
although many around us would gladly help to shoulder the load.

We struggle, fumble,fall…..trying to balance the weight.
At times, our load shifts just enough to get through the day
but then there are those times, when no one but God knows
how our back is breaking under the strain.

We give it to God for a stretch here and there, for moments, days, even weeks
But this phase is often interrupted with doubts and fears looming about,
So we make the mistake of gathering our burdens out of his hands
Each facet of fear ,each detail of pain,
through tears we begin to carry them once again.

Often smiles hide our sorrows and grief.
At some stages, we function normally,
the burden of agony we harbor invisible.
In other seasons, we are ready to throw in the towel.
However, there are those moments of tiny victories,
when Hope swoops in to lighten our cargo of cares.

Everyone struggles; no one is immune,
Some more than others it seems.
Burdens come in waves, one thing after another,
Then there are intervals of peace.

Pray for the hurting, the burdened, the broken.
Reach out with kindness to all.
Take time to listen , to hear, to care.
Offer to help lift someone’s bundle of sorrow.

Don’t assume, judge, belittle or underestimate
the significance of our grief, the denseness of our despair.
Just hold out a hand of compassion, arms of strength and solace.
Weep with us, laugh with us, mourn with us,be silent with us.
It’s in sharing the weight of each other’s burdens
that our loads get lighter, that Hope seems much brighter.

Take a moment—
a few heartfelt minutes to focus on the weighted cares of others,
putting aside all that we face to give them our full attention
even if only to strangers we meet,or our closest of friends.
It’s through compassion we heal,
through understanding, that we become understood.

In giving, we receive.
In sharing hope, we find faith.
In listening, we are heard.
Through loving others, our broken hearts are healed.


Paths that Cross By Quita feeley

This morning I found out that a young woman/mom just a couple miles away from where I live, took her life and that of her little three year old. My heart just broke and so I sat down and wrote this…

Paths that cross

If only I had known you, perhaps I could have helped–
A listening ear, taken your hand and said a prayer.
It could have made a difference, maybe changed your plan
But I had no idea, because our paths had never crossed.

As I planned my morning, coffee in hand
You were only a mile or so away, making your own plan–
one that heartbreak and pain had brought you to, but I couldn’t have known.
Our paths had never crossed.
While I busied myself with what to wear, what calls to make
you must have felt that there were no calls you could make,
or surely you would have made one….to someone.
A call that could have changed your mind. Of course you didn’t have my number.
Our paths had never crossed.
Last week at the grocery store, as I quickly walked the aisles, short on time
and in a crunch, it could have been you that I passed, maybe even twice.
I’m not sure I even smiled.
Our paths crossed.
Perhaps it was you at the red light, when I glanced inside your car
seeing your little children as you took them to school.
I most likely assumed you were a mom busy with life.
You seemed happy to me.
Our paths crossed.
Were you the one behind me in line to buy some things at the local discount store?
You only had an item or two and I a basket full.
I had a deadline though, so chose to continue, not making eye contact
not inviting you to go before me.
Our paths crossed.
You could have been the person who seemed hateful,
Someone I didn’t want to get to know.
Did I honk at you in traffic because you cut me off?
Or maybe you were the one I didn’t thank as you took my order at the drive through.
Our paths crossed.
Of course, if I had known the way your life would end,
If I had known you would be the headline to make me cry,
I would have done things differently if I ever had the chance
but I thought our paths had never crossed.
This morning I heard the sirens as they made their way down a street not far away.
I hardly noticed, didn’t give it a second thought, just pulled over to let them through.
I had no idea they were going for you.
One last time, our paths had crossed.

Everyday we cross the paths of hurting souls, often people to whom we don’t want to give the time of day.
They don’t meet us with a smile or compliment, don’t encourage us with their actions to reach out.
Sometimes, they intimidate us with their anger, and we feel defensive
And pull away, sometimes even thinking they’re not worth the time of day.
But YOU can be the difference, because people don’t accidentally cross our paths–
they are placed into our paths, so we can make a difference.