Yoked, Not Burdened

Lest I Choose the Easy Path

Some years ago I developed this habit when traveling alone: when boarding an airplane or a train, I would ask the Lord to give me the least desirable seat, the one no one else wanted, next to the crying baby, for example. I cannot count how many times I have been seated next to a young mother traveling with a small child.

One woman was from India and had been traveling for more than 24 hours already with a baby just learning his first steps. She was clearly completely exhausted and it wasn’t long before she and her child were fast asleep. But at some point, the boy awoke and started to make for the aisle. I caught him and ended up holding him while he played with my rosary beads for at least another hour while his mother slept. When she woke up with a start looking for her son and saw him tucked in my lap playing contentedly the relief and gratitude on her face was palpable.

On another flight from Alaska to the lower 48, I was given a seat next to a very young boy traveling alone—leaving one parent to join another in another state. The flight attendant let me know this and she tended to the boy, allowing him to make a last phone call to his father with her cell phone before takeoff. It wasn’t long before we were in the air and they were selling earphones for the in-flight movie. I bought some for the boy and myself, got us plugged in and situated, and we watched a kid’s movie together. Before too long, he was asleep on me and the flight attendant, who kept careful watch, would occasionally come by to see if anything was needed. When he awoke, we played with his cars and coloring book and the 5 hour flight passed without incident. When we landed, the attendant came to escort him off the plane, and I noticed at baggage claim that he was with a woman, probably his mother, and he pointed to me as his mother leaned in to catch what he was saying. I waved and he waved back. His mother mouthed “thank you” in my direction.

Sometimes, I think we imagine that our acts of charity only count if they are bothersome and difficult. It only counts if it hurts. Maybe I have more patience for the crying child than someone else, but if I do, it is only because in that moment, I am best yoked to Christ. My burden is light only because he is carrying the lion’s share.

A Passenger from Hell

On a train trip years ago, I was seated next to an active meth addict who was beyond obnoxious. He rather assaulted me with questions, clearly unable to control himself with any kind of comportment, and when he found out I was Catholic, I thought for a moment his head might spin around on his neck. His behavior became increasingly egregious and loud and I could see other passengers moving to other train cars or turning their backs while they turned up the volume on their headphones, disgusted by the insults he was hurling at the world in every direction. I get that, I wanted to move too.

I stayed. I showed him a piece I was writing on Mother Teresa. As he read it, I thought he might hurl my laptop out of the train. He told me the piece was making him literally sick. At that point, he grew weary of trying to bait me, handed my laptop to me, and shuffled off to another part of the train cussing at the world around him all the way, turmoil and unrest pouring out of him like a putrid cloud. A number of passengers close by sent me looks of relief. Suddenly, the air was more clear. Truly, it was as if something very troubled, even evil had left our presence.

I’ve always remembered that boy. He couldn’t have been more than 19. He seemed pitifully lost, maybe even possessed. I’ll never know. And I have no idea that our encounter achieved anything good at all—but that I met him, looked him in the eye, tried to speak to him like a human, and that I pray for him, even now. Maybe that’s not such a small thing.

We don’t all have the same gifts and that’s all right. But that’s not a free pass to turn our backs on those in need. Rather it’s an invitation to think about the ways Christ has made our burden light, the ways that we can serve others in joy and in difficulty that others cannot. Your duty is not to succeed, but to be faithful to use the gifts God has given you. Success lies in his hands.

Lord, let me always remember that my yoke is first yours, and let me get to work.

Liz Kelly Stanchina is the community leader for Women’s Formation at the Word on Fire Institute. She is an internationally-recognized speaker and retreat leader and the award-winning author or co-author of more than a dozen books including Anchored by Hope: Meditations to Calm the Anxious Soul, A Thrill of Hope, the Blessed is She Advent Devotional for 2024, A Place Called Golgotha: Meditations on the Last Words of Christ, Love Like a Saint: Cultivating Virtue with Holy Women, and Jesus Approaches, What Contemporary Women Can Learn about Healing, Freedom & Joy from the Women of the New Testament. She is a two-time cancer survivor and has lived with multiple sclerosis for two decades. She gives all glory to God that she can still work and flourishes in her faith and ministry. Visit her website at LizK.org.