...beside the weary road

All ye, beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low,

who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow,

look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing;

O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.

---Edmund H. Sears, 1849

This unfamiliar verse of the very familiar carol "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" has always drawn my soul. We all read our lives into the songs we sing, I think, and I read mine into this verse. I have felt that it speaks to anyone dealing with a chronic condition, toiling sometimes ‘with painful steps and slow'. This season, I feel it speaks to many, many of us, burdened with cares and sorrows beyond our comprehension. Who of us does not now and again feel crushed, stooped, weary of the pain of being human in a world full of humans?

But look! Ahead of us shine hours of ease and gladness, golden in their comfort. I know, I know…some who know me may be saying, right about now, that it is not like me to talk about ‘pie in the sky, by and by’, and you would be right. Stay with me. The genius in this verse, and in the grace offered us, is that the angels don't come like shiny aliens and whisk us away to a world where nothing matters anymore. No, the angels' song fills the skies over the weary road. Picture yourself, and me, all of us, laid out on the hoods of our cars, wrapped in fleece blankets against the winter chill; and there, because we happen to be travelers on this weary road, we hear angels. Because life has led us here, where we are, how we are, dealing with what we must, we hear the angels sing.

Wouldn't miss it for the world.