So often we think of love as something that makes life easier, better, happier, and it is. Love unlocks goodness in every direction, pushing us upward like the flower reaching toward the light.
Sometimes it’s not so pretty.
This week I’m watching my parents struggle, and struggle well, under the terrible weight of love.
Sometimes our love for others ends up dragging us through all kinds of muck we never wanted, makes us lift and carry indefinitely burdens we didn’t seek, pushes us into experiences we sought to avoid.
It changes us in ways we worry about.
But, because we love, we have no choice but to get through the muck, keep carrying the burden, face the experience.
Somewhere in there, if we’re lucky, we remember One who did the same for us, who struggled under the terrible weight of a cross.
Love was heavy for Him, too.
He prayed for us, bled for us, died for us, and rose for us.
He offers help and strength when we’re crumbling beneath the weight.
As we reach for that strength it all becomes clear:
It isn’t the love that is heavy. Life’s trials are heavy.
Love is what gets us through.
And we keep on.