I was carrying a load of heifers to the market.  They had made weight, and I was out of grass.  It was time for them to meet their destiny.  

I have an old gooseneck livestock trailer my Dad bought over forty years ago.  My brother Steve had it reworked and let me have it.  He made sure it had four good tires.  I pulled that trailer from Florida back to South Carolina.  I hauled cattle to new owners and picked up calves to fatten.  The tires were good and solid.  I thought. 

I have written previously about my trouble with tires and trailers.  Once I blew out two boat trailer tires in one trip.  But the tires on this trailer were less than a year and a half old.  I was not worried. 

In the early dawn, I loaded the cattle, eleven heifers, and made my way to the highway.  The first twenty minutes were uneventful.  I pulled onto the interstate and started to build up speed when I heard that awful flapping sound.  I thought: “This cannot be happening.”  But it was. 

I pulled over on the side of the interstate, walked around, and sure enough, one of the tires had shredded itself.  As Yogi Berra famously said, “It was Deja-vu all over again.”   

This time, however, I was prepared.  Thanks to good advice from my brother Steve, I had purchased the biggest cordless impact wrench I could find to carry in my truck.  I had a five-ton jack.  I was about to give my fellow travelers a cowboy version of a NASCAR pit-stop.  I confidently put my impact driver on the lug-nut, pressed the button, heard the electric motor whine, and …nothing.  The lug-nut did not budge. 

These things happen.  I got my stand-by lug wrench and tried the old-fashioned way.  I pulled.  I strained.  I wondered about the price of a hernia operation.  I tried the other lug-nuts.  They apparently had a convention and decided they would not be moved.  Eleven heifers looked at me.  They registered their opinion of my efforts in a rather odiferous manner. 

It was 6:45 AM, and I knew nothing was open.  I decided to limp down to the next exit, where there was a truck stop.  I had one good tire on that side that was bulging, and I prayed for that tire with the fervor found at a Pentecostal prayer meeting.   

Ten very slow miles and a Google search later, I found a tire store that said it would open at 7:30 AM.  Sure enough, thirty minutes later, an older man came up to my driver’s side window and said, “Did you know you have a flat tire?”  I thought about Bill Engvall and almost said, “Nope!  I was passing through and just thought I’d let my heifers see a tire store.  Here’s your sign.”  But I did not say this because I learned a long time ago never to pick a fight with a man who has his name on a shirt.  He can and will whip you. 

I got out, and we looked at the tires.  He told me he had that size in stock and went to check.  Meanwhile – and I am not making this up – other employees were coming to work, stopping, and taking pictures of my heifers on the trailer to send to their kids.  They must not have cows in that part of the state. 

The older man returned with bad news.  All they had were radial tires.  For those of you not properly educated in tire-ology, radial tires and bias tires must be segregated.  If placed on the same vehicle, they work against each other.  Like Baptists in a business meeting, they react differently to curves and can cause the trailer to sway out of control.  I knew this.  Now instead of buying one tire, I would be buying four tires.   

The older gentleman – who really was the nicest guy – pointed out the load limit on the bias tires already on the trailer – All four together, they were rated at about 8,000 pounds.  The problem was the trailer weighs 2,000 pounds, and I had 7,000 pounds of beef on the trailer.  Now I understood why I was blowing tires. 

I bought four new tires.  The older gentleman had to jack up the trailer and work with eleven heifers who thought they had entered “The Twilight Zone” mooing their opinion of his work. After an hour, I was back on the road with tires strong enough to carry the load. 

I know I load up my life with more than I can carry.  I jam-pack my schedule, I put unrealistic expectations on myself, and when life throws its little surprises, parts of my soul start to shred.  I bet you know people just like me.  You might even be just like me.  That is why Jesus’ words mean so much to me: “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” 

I do not know all that Jesus meant when he said this, but I am pretty sure he at least meant he can handle your load if you give it to him.