Take the load off Fannie, and put it on Him

Many of the folks I grew up admiring are getting old and dying. What does that say about me? Recently singer/drummer/actor Levon Helm had the audacity to die on me. I loved his work with the Band, mostly on such Southern Rock tunes like The Weight, which talked about taking a said weight off someone named Fannie and putting it on someone else.

Removing a burden, I took it to mean, though truthfully I barely understood the lyrics, much less their meaning. I first heard it when I altered a driver's license and snuck into Easy Rider as a 16-year-old. Remember when you had to be 18 to go to certain movies. Wow. Another world.

The burden I'm working with is this moving thing. We're packing/transferring/moving across the state to Eunice, a place I have no familiarity with. That would worry me enough, but it's the fact I'm truly leaving all I know, all I've known for 20 years that has me freaking.

We went to the West Bank, a suburb of New Orleans that we lived in for 14 years and where our grown kids and their little ones still live, last night. Jackson Brown sings, "All good things must come to an end." We left there after Hurricane Katrina, against our wishes, and wound up in a house and a life we loved, frankly. But I said yes when God called and next thing I know, we're living in a parsonage and our home is gone.

Now, just two years later, we're gone again, and that phrase, "the last time" keeps popping up. My wife, Mary, went to her last women's meeting at Fitzgerald UMC this past Sunday. Tonight I finish a Bible Study at our other church, Lacombe UMC, that I've taught for eight months. The last time is a constant thought.

We watched two of our grand kids play ball last night on separate fields. Terrytown Playground was where I coached my kids all those years ago, and as far as I know, last night might have been my last visit, gas cost being what it is.

I admire folks like Abram, who was called, and went. No questions, apparently. No tying up loose ends. No good things coming to and end. No weight being lifted or shared. Just go, and he went.

I am amazed at folks like Peter who was called to drop everything and he quit the only job he'd ever known and went.

I am bemused at folks like Philip who was told to leave a revival in Samaria and go South and he went. No turning off the Direct TV or worrying about insurance being transferred. He was told; he went.

I'm simply not programmed that way, apparently. I'm told to go and I look backward like Lot's wife, and though I'm not turning into a pillar of salt, my stomach is turning into mush and the weight is heavy.

So take the load off Fannie and put it somewhere else, Lord. This load is akillin' me.