A monthly journey taken in weariness, I know something of those long roads when the body aches and every mile feels heavy. You make that trip not for pleasure but for a few brief moments that secure the medicine you need. It is a small mercy wrapped in a hard necessity. Yet I would have you see that you are not alone on that road. The Lord who counts the hairs of your head knows every turn of the wheel, every jolt, every sigh you breathe along the way.
There is a kind of looking that sees only the rough way, the endless pavement, the ache in your bones. But our Savior taught us to look through things. He saw the cross and, beyond it, the throne. He saw the suffering and, beyond it, the joy set before Him. So you, beloved, may see this hard journey and, beyond it, the gentle hand of your Father who meets you at the end and says, “I am here.” The way may be rough, but it cannot be long. These frail bodies of ours are not forever. Soon enough, we shall dwell where there is no more distance, no more weariness, and the Great Physician will need no monthly visit to keep us whole.
Until then, do not imagine that your cries fall on deaf ears. In Egypt, the people groaned under their burdens, and God heard. He did not chide them for groaning; He bent down to deliver them. He hears every weary step you take. He knows the weight of this monthly trial, and He is able to send relief. Perhaps He will bring a doctor nearer to your door, a small mercy from His hand that will lift this burden. Or perhaps He will strengthen your frame and give you such sweet communion with Himself along the way that the journey becomes, in time, a pilgrimage of grace. I cannot say how He will answer, but I know He will. He is not a Father who forgets His children when they are old and gray. He has promised to carry you, even as He carried Israel of old, with a love that never tires.
So lean hard upon Him. When you set out next month, take Christ for your companion. Speak to Him in the quiet of the journey. Tell Him your aches. He does not mind complaints that end in trust. And watch, watch for the small mercies that line the road, for they are love letters from heaven, even if they come in black-edged envelopes. The Lord is near to the weary, and His tenderness is infinite.
Lord Jesus, You who once walked the dusty roads of Galilee, look down upon this dear one worn with travel. You see the weariness, the long miles, the brief appointment. Provide, we pray, a doctor or a helper close by, that this burden may be removed. But if it please You to let the journey continue for a season, then come alongside and make Yourself known as the companion of the road. Let Your presence be a living medicine for the soul, and let each trip end with the sweet assurance that You are faithful. Keep this aging frame in Your merciful care, and when at last the final appointment comes, bring this soul home to the land where no one travels any longer, for we shall be with You forever. Amen.