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The six of us climbed in our minivan (aka the farm truck) and headed north last week.
We brought bags with clothes, snacks, toys, books, and a few pillows.
But the heaviest burdens we loaded in the car were our own willful tendencies; our short tempers, our frustration, our exhausted self-control, and our general grumpiness.
Like the saying goes, no matter where you go, there you are.
A happy crew, starting out the day.
Mile after mile we trudged along, reigning in the sin that so eagerly sought to entangle our hearts.
Family road trips are like a concentrated version of regular life. The highs are high (singing Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’ together as loudly as possible) and the lows are low (convincing a sobbing six year old that two more hours actually won’t cause him to die of constriction from a seat belt). 
All along, things like flat tires, dirty gas station bathrooms, growling stomachs, and disagreements about music, correct directions, and restaurant options push tired minds to the edge of composure.
A stop at a park to let kids be kids for a bit.
In the middle of it all God kept saying the same thing to me:
“Bear one another’s burdens, and thereby fulfill the law of Christ.” -Galatians 6:2
That scripture has opened my heart in new ways this week. I see my family differently through the lens of God’s law of love.
A family bears one another’s burdens. We pick up the weaknesses, the frustrations, the exhausted wills and carry one another.
The Lady gave up the fight with sleep at last.

All week I woke up with that scripture bursting in my heart, like fireworks exploding in grand display.

Lord, let me carry the burdens of those around me. Help me to love as Christ loved, lifting the weak up to You. Let my eyes not be on myself alone, full of selfish will and comfort as my goal. The six of us are related by blood, but we are are made a family by Your blood, washed in the holiness of Your sacrifice. 

I said it to myself many times, I told it to Mr. Fantastic when I needed the words spoken out loud for all to hear, and I asked for grace from our children when we, their parents, were the ones who needed the lifting.

Together, we prayed for one another, seeking ways and words that could lift us all out of the stress of the moment.

Sometimes it’s hard to get home.

But when I slid into my own bed that night I thought how sweet the homecoming is when we persevere in faith, triumphant in gospel love for one another.

There go the fireworks again….

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