A few years ago, we were on our way to sunny Mexico for Spring Break.  It was an amazing opportunity, gifted to us, to enjoy a week on the shores of Lake Chapala in Ajijic, Mexico.  We'd packed and planned, double checked with various sources about safety for our travels, and were finally enthusiastically on our way.  

Only we weren't.  We were sitting on a plane, in early morning fog, on the tarmac at DFW.  No problem.  At first.  But, as the minutes ticked past, we realized we were in great jeopardy of missing our connecting flight to Mexico.  My heart raced as my anxiety soared.  At first, the flight attendant was completely uninterested in our dilemma.  Finally, he realized what we were trying to say--we have 3 small children and all our carry-ons to race across the Houston airport for the ONLY flight to our destination going out that day.  

Sweat was dripping down my face, as we landed with the cheers of both the flight attendant and the fellow passengers who had been won over to our problem.  They all allowed us to get off the plane first.  Our plan of action was for the gate agent to call the connecting flight to let them know we were on our way.  I'd run with the two smaller children--and I do mean RUN.  And, Chris and our oldest son would carry the burden of all the bags.  It was our best strategy to tackle our problem and get to that plane.  Our thinking was that I could go faster with two children sprinting and no bags--and surely the awaiting gate agent would not deny boarding us, knowing the rest of my family (and our bags) were close behind.  

It. was. close.  I clung to their little hands on either side, and we sprinted--as politely as you can--through the airport to travel to another terminal and stop the plane.  I looked back once as I took off, seeing poor Chris and Collin with bags slung across every shoulder and their backs.  It looked like too much to bear.  But, our strategy worked, with literally one minute to spare.  Whew!

And, today, this is the picture I have in my mind, as I consider the many people I know who face situations that seem to be too much to endure.  They are in a race--some for their lives--and time seems to be ticking along, pressing in on them.  The weight of their burden is too much for one person to carry--cancer, terminal illnesses, and other such horrors.  Their children and spouses given scary diagnoses, the rest of the family reeling.  The burden is too heavy for them.  And, as I read their stories on various blogs or receive updates from mutual friends, I feel the weight of that burden, too.  My heart is heavy.

But, praise God, we have a Biblical example of a similar situation in Numbers 11.  God's anger is literally burning around his disobedient Israelite children, as fire sweeps through their camp.  Faithful leader, Moses, prays for deliverance, and God grants it.  But, then, the Israelites, rather than respond with gratitude, greet Moses with grumbling and complaining and whining about the manna they have to eat and the lack of meat.   They actually say, "we remember the fish we at at no cost in Egypt!"  (Numbers 11: 5).   They conveniently have forgotten at this point that they were slaves, being fed in order to keep the labor force alive.  And, just when you thought it couldn't, things get even worse for Moses, as he "heard the people of every family wailing at the entrance to their tents" (verse 10).  Talk about a Calgon moment...I'd imagine poor Moses had just had enough.  In fact, he lets us know he was drowning in the pit of his circumstances.