The Taste of Tears

I firmly believe that God gives us everything we need to get through anything He brings us to. Going along with that, I am beginning to learn that He may not always gives us exactly what we want to get through it, but instead exactly what we need. He does know better than us, I hear.

I have cried more in the last three days than in the last three months. Little things, silly things, have set me off. A song, a facial expression, a word of hope. I have repeatedly dropped all the pieces I have been trying to pick back up, over and over again, all week. I am getting a reputation at work as the crier, which is definitely not who I am (or was?). Things just hurt sometimes, and I need someone to tell me that I'll get through this one, too.

Much to my amazement, and yet not to my asking, God has placed random people in my path to give me a word of hope. They have most definitely not been the people I was expecting, but I'll take it just the same.

And this afternoon, He really brought it home for me. My favorite friend at work came to help in my classroom this afternoon, and I took that time to pour out my heart on her. She looked at me, and told me I was crazy. She told me that I needed to just let it go, and trust that things would work out on their own., just the way they are supposed to. She said that I take things too seriously. Who knew that something so shallow, and so simple, could bring me back to sanity. I made it through the rest of the day.

Later this afternoon, I was holding a sweet baby who is always willing to hold me back when I'm upset. I lifted him to my face just to feel him there, and the tears he had been crying just moments before brushed across my lips. It was at that moment that I remember what tears tasted like.

Tears taste of the feeling of letting go. Tears taste of sadness held inside for a little too long. Tears taste of brokenness and sorrow. Tears taste of grief. But most importantly, tears taste of freedom. The freedom of letting your heart be lighter, and the freedom of letting other people see the pain. I had to be reminded of how tears taste, because it had been so long since I had tasted my own.

Yesterday I asked a friend if she thought that maybe there were some roads that we were meant to travel alone. She thought for a minute, and then replied, "Well, there was a reason Jesus sent them out two-by-two."

Thanks Kelly. And thanks for standing by as I learned that it's very healthy to know the taste of my own tears...