There is a certain curve in the path where, still when I pass, I can tap into the anguish and grief I bore on my first walks. It lies between the soccer fields and the dog park and floods deeply with storms and melting snow. I cried there too, because it is a lonely path where no one could hear, like litterers who dump their loads on deserted roads where no one can see their sin.
I cannot imagine Christ’s agony on the cross, carrying the sins, diseases and anguishes of all of His children. Jesus was a man. I am a woman. I can’t carry all of my sorrows, so God allowed Jesus to be in desolation, wholly plunged into the world’s misery so I do not have to even try.
As a mom, I have carried a lot. I carry groceries to my kitchen, I carried my babies to their cribs, I carry clothes to be washed, I carry clutter to its home. “Carrying” has an endpoint, a destination. God does not want me to carry anything forever. He does that, He carries even me. While carried my children for many years, there did come a time when I could no longer lift them. But God holds me forever. My sins were His burden which He received on the cross. My soul is His love which He carries with grace and mercy.
I mustn’t wade in the pool of my sorrows. God carries me through to the place of His love, mercy and grace
And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops or blood falling to the ground. Luke 22:44
Meeting God at the Park 