I cry now. In the grocery store more often then not. Yesterday, I saw a gentlemen leaving the store with a bouquet of flowers and the water works started. I cried for my friend across town who lost her husband and the father of their 5 children in a motorcycle accident, knowing she won’t be getting any flowers from him again. I cried for myself, because in this moment, my husband is unable to send me flowers or even hold my hand. I cried for my children who just want life to go back to “normal”. I cried for my parents who have chosen to miss out on me, my husband, my kids, and our amazing lives because they were deceived, they truly have no idea what they are missing or what they have done. I cried for the injustice of this world, the corruption in our government, our legal system and how that breaks down in my daily life in such a horrific way. All in the middle of the grocery store.
I cried last week, big fat juicy tears rolled down my face as I once again drove alone in the dark and the rain to the darkest place in my sphere of influence and wished that things were different. I long for Jesus with skin on. For the great Comforter to bring physical comfort to my day. Words are my primary love language but sometimes you just need a hug by someone that knows you, knows your struggle and has decided to make a stand to be by your side through the battle. Instead, on a weekly basis I end up sharing Jesus with someone lonely and hurting, shoring up the broken and giving them the hope that things will get better. Physically helping them in a difficult time, being who I needed. I hope that since I have preached the message enough to myself that maybe, just maybe, the light will break forth in the midst of the darkness and God will be glorified.
I cry when I pray, when I praise, when I worship, when I shower, when I drive, and even in church. God has been good to me. What satan have meant for evil, God is working for good. I don’t have to understand but I do know that my tears are just unsaid prayers that touch my Father’s heart. He collects every single one of them and saves them because they are that precious to Him. Jesus cried, actually it says that Jesus wept. Weeping, the physical side affect of a broken heart, Jesus experienced it. He demonstrated that it was not a sign of weakness but a sign of being real. My other promise that I stand on is that weeping only lasts for a night, but JOY comes in the morning. It will break, darkness will flee and the light will come. I refuse to lose my joy.
I can’t keep it all together. My tears are not a sign of defeat. I am not weak. I am simply made of flesh and God has broken down the walls I keep putting up around my heart to “protect myself”. I have nothing to hide, I am not living ashamed, and I refuse to conform to anything other then the Word of God spoken over my life. When was the last time you embraced you, your whole self, everything about you? That extra 20 lbs? Your laugh? Your love for Miracle Whip over Mayo? I mean those are the things that make you, you! Jesus loves them. Your Heavenly Father delights in your laugh, just like you delight in your own child’s big old belly laugh. And the whole Mayo/Miracle Whip deal, lets just say we are a Miracle believing household that brings out the Mayo for our best friends who do the same for us. Just because we don’t believe that all condiments are created equal, does not mean that we don’t love the other enough to embrace their unique (and crazy!) ways.
Earlier today, I shared on my personal page about cream in my coffee. As I made my coffee this morning, I wished I could be different and just drink my coffee black. I came to the conclusion I am so tired of wishing me away, thinking in some messed up and dysfunctional way that if I drank my coffee black people would like me, choose me, love me… Folks, this is really what goes on in my brain pre-coffee! How ridiculous?!? I don’t care how you drink your coffee, or even if you drink coffee at all, it won’t make me like you or dislike you in the least. Why in the world would I try to change the way my tastebuds work in order to please someone else? This is what we do with so many other things in life. We pursue a career because it was suggested by someone you respected, we work a job that we hate because it is expected, we ignore our passions, our callings because it may offend someone, somewhere, somehow… I am over it.
So now I cry, it is something I do, it helps me find the joy, the calling and purpose of my life. It keeps my heart soft, tender, pliable, and I am leaning into the whispers of the Holy Spirit like never before. I am real, vulnerable and transparent. What you seeis what you get. There is no more false self to protect me from pain, but there is also nothing holding me back from being me. Do you ever wonder if all that life really is, is about the becoming? Becoming who you were created to be, who God designed you to be, who the world really needs you to be? Maybe the world just needs my tears that turn to prayers where words can’t go.