Are you a public, let the tears flow when they flow kinda crier?
Or are you a private, tense all your muscles to keep the tears in until you can be alone kinda crier?
I think I’m somewhere in between. I don’t cry in large public spaces. I’ll be your rock at a funeral if you need me. But in a particularly difficult conversation where I am one of the ones hurting – there is often no way I can hold those pesky things in.
I wonder sometimes why I am so… I don’t know if ashamed is the right word so maybe… reserved when it comes to crying. I guess I feel the need to be in control and not bring others into my sadness especially when they may be wrestling with their own.
But I do know that tears can be beautiful.
I know they can let the grief flow out and the healing begin if we just let them.
Last night, I had a moment with one of my children that reminded me of the beauty that comes when you let the tears do what they want to do, fall where they want to fall.
One of my boys was upset about the demise of a blanket he had since he was 2. I’m not sure I ever loved an object as a child as much as he has loved this blanket. It has gotten him through everything. But like most things we love, time has taken its toll. And late last night he had a moment of drinking in the reality that the things we love don’t always last forever.
As I watched the tears flow freely down his face, I had this moment of asking myself: will he always feel this free to express how he feels?
I hope so.
I hope he always knows that crying isn’t weak.
That in fact tears can be a powerful sign of love…
like the love of a boy for his blanket,
or a mom for her son,
or a Savior for his people.
The shortest line in the Gospels is only two words: “Jesus wept.” In those two simple words, we were gifted with the reminder that even God lets the tears fall when they need to.
May we be brave enough to do the same.