There is a poem called “THE CHANGED CROSS”. It tells about a weary one who thought that her cross was surly heavier than those of others, whom she saw about her. She slept. and in her dreams she was led to a place where many crosses, of different shapes and sizes, lay. There was a beautiful little one, set in jewels and gold. She took it up, but her weak form shook beneath it. Next, she saw a lovely cross with fair flowers entwined around its structured form. She lifted I, but under the flowers were thorns which tore her flesh. At last, she came to a plain cross, without jewels, without flowers, but with only a few words of love inscribed upon it. She took it up and it proved the easiest to be borne. As she looked upon it, she recognized it as her own old cross.
God knows best what cross we need to bear. We do not know how heavy other people’s crosses are. We envy someone who is rich; his is a golden cross, set with jewels, but we do not know how heavy it is. We see someone whose life seems very lovely. She bears a cross twined with flowers. Thus, if we could try all the other crosses, that we think are lighter than our own, we would, at last, find that none of them suited us so as our own.
———Glimpses through Life’s Windows.