Tara stepped out onto the rickety rope bridge. Looking down at the wild, rushing jungle river was a mistake she only made one time. After that, she kept her eyes forward, but the unsteady swaying under her feet sent waves of intense fear through her as she inched her way forward. The heavy load on her back made balancing on the narrow footbridge almost impossible.
“Keep moving. You are holding us up,” barked the impatient porter behind Tar.
Pushing her way past the half way point, Tara focused on the far side of the gorge. Seconds later, her feet were again on firm ground. With her mouth bone-dry, and her heart pounding, she breathed a sigh of relief before marching into the shade of the thick forest canopy.
A simple girl from a small village, Tara, didn’t know the men leading the trek, nor did she care. All she knew was that she, and ten other local people were being paid two weeks’ wages to hull supplies up into the mountains. There were no roads large enough for a trunk, so carrying supplies the entire twenty miles by narrow footpaths was their only option.
Had the expedition taken place a year earlier, Tara’s father would have been the one lugging the heavy pack up the mountain trail, but he had fallen ill. It was up to Tara and her mother to care for her sick father and three younger siblings.
The first five miles of the trek had been mostly flat. However, after crossing the river, the trail became steep and difficult. Tara’s legs strained to lift her own weight, plus the bulky load. She began to worry that her single pair of well-worn shoes would not hold out for the entire trip. Since she had no other choice, she simply tried not to think about it.
The intense jungle heat and thick, moist air made her sticky with sweat, so that the pack clung to her back, making it extra uncomfortable.
The straps dug into her shoulders, causing sharp pain with each step.
Quitting wasn’t an option. Giving up would bring shame to her whole family. Besides, her mother was counting on her for the money. Without it, the family might go hungry.
By the end of the first day, Tara was exhausted. Her whole body ached, and she was glad to shed the heavy load. The day ended by a small campfire, where she gulped down her meager supper of rice and vegetables.
“You did well today,” said Safa, one of the experienced porters. He was a bright-eyed young man, only about three years older than Tara.
“I hope I can complete the journey,” She responded with a faint smile. “I am already weary, and I’ve been told that the trail becomes more difficult each day.”
“Yes, that’s true, but I’m sure you can do it. Now get some rest.”
Tara searched the ground for a comfortable spot to lay down. Moments later, she fell into a deep sleep.
Before she knew it, Safa was shaking her awake. “Get up. It’s time to go.”
Tara forced her stiff muscles to obey, as she rose to her feet. She dreaded taking on the load, but after a quick breakfast, she had no choice. The leader of the group was already starting up the trail. Tara hoisted the pack up, and adjusted it on her shoulders. For some reason, it didn’t seem as heavy as the day before.
She fell in line behind Safa, near the end of the train of porters. For the next three days the group pushed on, up the trail. Tara noticed the vegetation grew a little sparser in the cooler mountain air.
There, her lungs worked harder to get the oxygen that her body needed.
Late on the fourth day, the narrow trail opened up to a small clearing.
“Leave you pack over there,” one of the leaders pointed Tara to a role of thatched huts that made up the mountain camp. There she dropped the heavy pack for good.
Early the next morning when Tara woke, she found the camp shrouded in a thick fog. Tara, Safa, and the other porters wasted no time, and were soon on their way back down the trail toward home. With a few belonging, and enough food for the trip, the hike down the mountain was nothing, compared to the difficult climb up. Even the river-crossing was a breeze.
When they reached Tara’s village, Safa said, “You did well for your first time.”
“That was difficult work. I’m so glad that you were there to encourage me,” she said, and then started up the short path that led to her village. After a few steps, she stopped and turned around.
“Before I go, I want to thank you for taking some of the weight out of my pack, and carrying it for me.” Tara said with a smile.
Other Stories You Might Enjoy
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Read Matthew 11:28-30
Who is Jesus speaking to in this verse?
Do you ever find yourself weary and burdened? If so, what are some of the things that make you feel that way?
Just like Safa, in the story, Jesus loves us and wants to lighten our load.
Jesus talks about a yoke. Notice it is made for two animals. Is Jesus talking about animals or people?
What two people is Jesus’ yoke meant for?
Are you willing to be yoked with Jesus?