Liquid Words
I have a confession: I cry a lot. (This is somewhat ironic because I am actually missing a tear duct. But, good Lord! This does not stop the tears from falling at a rapid pace!)
Yes. I cry a lot. This is mostly when I’m alone or when I am moved by music - and both of these circumstances happen . . . a lot.
I am a feeler at an incredibly deep level. This is my natural state and so I have taught myself to balance this with an ability to make the choice to also think. (I am told that feeling AND thinking are a balanced combination for healthy decision making! It is a work in progress.)
I was watching a show the other night and several of the main characters had gathered at one of their homes for laughs and drinks and to catch up on the deepest parts of their lives. They were all dealing with difficult realities of life. The friend who was serving as the host brushed aside the difficult decisions and pain in her own life to be present and listen to her friends. When it came time for her friends to leave, she hugged them and said goodbye, with a sincere and joy-filled smile.
When the door closed and her two friends were on their way, she immediately sat down on the stairs and put her head in her hands and she wept as loud groans erupted from the depths of her heart, and her body shook. I watched . . . and felt somehow grateful. If this is being portrayed in a show, others must have these private moments of weeping just as I do. For me, the scene in this show did not represent a rare dramatic portrayal of life. No. This type of weeping and wailing has flown through me so many times in recent years.
Sometimes life is that hard and the pain is that deep.
And, sometimes . . . Sometimes I’m grateful for the pain. And I’m nearly always grateful for the tears.
Tears can be so healing. There are times when sadness is completely overwhelming and yet my eyes cannot produce a single tear. There are other times when tears erupt from my eyes like a hurricane convulsing through my entire being unexpectedly. However, unlike a hurricane that brings destruction, I experience this as a downpour of healing. Rain reviving a barren land. Growth in the wilderness. The tears are like a rain that invites the seed of hope that has been trapped just below the surface to begin to break through so that something beautiful can appear.
Tonight I cried. I put my head in my hands and wept. My head is pounding and my eyes are red and swollen. And I am so thankful. Pain replaced by compassion. Mere determination replaced with peaceful resolve. Strength coming from far beyond me and also deep within me. Affirmation. Hope. Clarity. Peace.
Sometimes I’m grateful for the pain. And I’m nearly always grateful for the tears. I am grateful.
“Lord, you know all my desires and deepest longings. My tears are liquid words and you can read them all.”
Psalm 38:9