Ode to the tearful
I envy people who cry easily…
Tears come when they’re sad.
When they’re happy.
When they’re touched.
When I was younger, my tears were largely buried under an elaborate interior protection system that worked like an emotional iron dome erected by my ego to keep those drippy droppy ocular excretions at bay.
Lately, it’s been getting really rusty, though. And this is a good thing.
With each of life’s big paradigm-shifting blows and joys, that system has been comprised little by little.
When I got married… Compromised.
When my dad died… Compromised.
When Rory was born… Compromised.
When I was ordained… Compromised.
(I could go on.)
But still, the barrier limps along. And there are some things that it keeps me from feeling too deeply.
I want the system to crash. I really don’t think it’s helping anymore. Maybe it did at one point in my life, but now, I just think it’s outdated technology.
I’ve had the opportunity over these last seven months to minister to some of the most emotionally attuned people I’ve ever met. When I see their tears on Sunday, I envy them. Those tears are holy tears. Those folks are settling at least a few inches deeper into the holy ground beneath their feet than the rest of us. The veil is thin between them and the ocean of their lived experience, and they feel each wave deeply.
I envy this.
Grace + Godspeed,
Jonas+
Thank you! This is beautiful, and I so relate. But it can be embarrassing if you cry easily. I cry at beautiful sunrises and sunsets. I cry watching a plane land. I sometimes cry when I walk the dogs and converse with God. The list goes on and on.