Some crosses come of rough hewn wood,
Heavy the weight across the shoulders,
Rough the ropes that bind the arms
As the Son of man, marches in procession,
There to give His all for the likes of me.
Some crosses come in the barked orders of a cruel commander,
Selecting victims to die for retribution,
There one man shoulders his cross,
Replacing another to go down into that darkness,
Praising God each day, until, impatient,
They inject him with poison to speed him off to his Master.
Some crosses come in the shape of a long slow disease,
Stealing strength, freedom of movement,
And at last the ability to speak
From a loving man who spoke word after word,
Bearing his burden, in pain and patience
Day by day,
While the world watched, sometimes snickering,
Until at last, when it was time,
He returned home with a final amen.
Some crosses are simple, but hard to shoulder:
Smiling at the troubled spouse,
Being kind to a tired shop clerk,
Reaching out to someone who frustrates and hurts,
Walking a sick baby,
Caring.
Help me, O Lord,
To carry the crosses you send me
With fortitude and love,
Whether in great things or little,
For love of You,
Because You ask it,
And always, through Your help,
This day, and always,
Amen.
BTTT
Thank you so much, dear Knitting.