My mother suffered illnesses all her life. In spite of it, she remained one of the most positive people I have ever known. She always was an inspiration to me as I grew up under her mothering.
She suffered a stroke that she could not overcome and because of the seizures that resulted she had to be on heavy medications until she passed on. Still she inspired me more than ever before. I often wondered what it was that enabled her to weather her storms of life with such strength and dignity.
It fell upon me to organize and review all the family documents. My mother had been a bookkeeper, so I found everything very well organized. While rummaging through one of her files, I came across a poem that she had saved.
I put the papers down and sat back to read this poem. As I read it, it occurred to me that this poem embodied her disposition, and gave her so much strength of faith and trust in our God. The poem is titled “My Cross”. I do not know who authored it, but I can hear my mother reciting it to this day.
MY CROSS
Upon my back was laid a grievous load,
A heavy cross to bear along the road.
I staggered on, until one weary day,
Lurking temptation sprang across my way.
I prayed to God, and swift at His command
The cross became a weapon in my hand.
It slew my threat’ning enemy, and then
Became a cross upon my back again.
I faltered many a league, until at length,
Groaning, I sank, and had no further strength.
“Oh God!” I cried, “I am so weak and lame!”
And lo! my cross a staff of strength became.
It swept me on till I regained the loss,
Then was upon my back, again a cross.
My soul a desert. O’er the burning tack
I persevered, the cross upon my back.
No shade was there, and in the burning sun
I sank at last, and thought my days were done.
But lo! the Lord works many a blest surprise –
The cross became a shade before my eyes!
I slept; I woke, to feel the strength of ten.
I found the cross upon my back again.
And thus, through all my days, from that to this,
The cross, my burden, has become a bliss,
Nor ever shall I lay the burden down,
For God one day will make my cross a crown!
The tears flowed as I read this poem and it unlocked my mother’s secret source. It still brings tears to my eyes and grips my heart as it works its touching and inspiring energy upon me just as it must have worked on her. I am thankful she passed it on to me.
Turning Point
A simple poem, a word or phrase, spoken or read at just the right moment has the power to be a turning point for us. This poem was that, I am convinced, for my mother. From the moment I discovered this poem, it became the same for me, another turning point.
I hope that as you read this poem again, it helps you set your life’s compass and find your cross a bliss.
COPYRIGHT © 2014 ALLAN E. MUSTERER