Weariness, yes I wear you like a cloak. I mother wearily. I wife wearily. I daughter, sister, friend wearily from the weight of pain I carry on my back and on my shoulders and in my heart. I notice a picture framed on the table. I see the face of a woman I used to know, a mother who radiates light and joy. This woman gives freely to her husband and her friends and she appears to live in the brightness of heaven’s shine. I see her and I want to stick out my hand to introduce myself. “Hello there. I’m Weary. It’s nice to meet you.” For though she shares my face, I now hardly know her.
Burden, yes I’ve met you too. I carry you around in sinking arms and I stuff you down in my pockets to make room for more to come. The tasks of the day pile on top of you until everything becomes one more thing and I feel like I might just crumble right here and right now. You raise up on all sides of me and when I look in the mirror you, Burden, are all I see.
Then I read His word. Come to me, He whispers. He calls me by name. Only He names me Daughter instead of Weary and Burden, reminding me that I am His and He will give me rest. I feel the lightness return to me. Heaven’s shine warms me. My reflection takes me by surprise as I notice that I resemble again the woman in the picture, only something is different. I now see a little more of Him in this face in the mirror. I see a cross and on that tree I see my old friends, Weary and Burden. Jesus has taken their names from me. I give thanks. And I rest.