"You never know what may cause them. The sight of the Atlantic Ocean can do it, or a piece of music, or a face you've never seen before. A pair of somebody's old shoes can do it...You can never be sure. But of this you can be sure. Whenever you find tears in your eyes, especially unexpected tears, it is well to pay the closest attention. They are not only telling you something about the secret of who you are, but more often than not God is speaking to you through them of the mystery of where you have come from and is summoning you to where, if your soul is to be saved, you should go next."
• Frederick Buechner •
(This was originally introduced to me by tim keel : as always his insightful thoughts inspire and encourage me, read how these words resonated in his life, they can be found @timkeel.com.)
...i have always been fairly sensitive, in my family, i have typically been considered fragile. one of the things my siblings were pretty successful in doing for me, was to be careful not to hurt my feelings-even my younger sister would say she knew in that way that she may be the youngest, but i was the baby (most tender-hearted) of the family.
As i grew older, i found tearing up in situations caused others to respond to me in all kinds of unexpected ways...in first grade when i was reprimanded for talking too much in class, i cried...the teacher could tell i was sorry and allowed me to go to recess unpunished. Then in fourth grade, when Mr. Johnson gave me detention, for talking too much in class, he found it very hard to keep me afterwards because of my "big ole crocodile tears". and of course getting pulled over by a policeman has provided opportunities to make use of a couple of kleenex, however, it was purely natural, and not 100% foolproof-I've had my share of speeding tickets nonetheless. i'm not saying these outpourings were meant to be manipulative, just that even at an early age, i noticed that other people could be affected by my vulnerability.
But later in life, this ability to "turn on the waterworks" was not as socially acceptable. My parents were very strong emotional role models. i saw my mother cry a handful of times in my life. My stepDad was ironclad, bone dry. Mostly, the times that they found me among my personal puddles, i wasn't dying, injured, or scarred physically-i'm actually fairly stronghearted and can take most things in stride. My feelings however, have Undoubtedly known one primary place of residency, my sleeves. There are only so many times can you be told to pull yourself together and act your age - before you begin to hold it in. This was just their way of protecting me and helping me understand that other people could be affected by my vulnerability.
Years of training myself to keep it together have gone by. until years recently, i allowed myself a good cry, on occassion. But I noticed it seeping back out during a morning prayer between services among the church staff. These tears reminded me of the ones that fell after the birth of my first daughter. They just came, I could not hold them back, and they felt...good. Then I noticed that the lumps in my throat softened during sweet times, and i am now comforted in the way my cheeks become moistened by the streams that seem to flow frequently. Much more often than I ever imagined letting happen. But this passage reminds me that i am not in control of this phenomena, these joy drops from the midst of lifes circumstances, that permeates this being.
...so when i hear a grown man from our community share a story about hurt and healing, and apologizing for his tears...i have one response-it is my honor, brother.
...And then i am reminded, how other people could be affected by my vulnerability, and to that i also say... it is truly my honor.
• Frederick Buechner •
(This was originally introduced to me by tim keel : as always his insightful thoughts inspire and encourage me, read how these words resonated in his life, they can be found @timkeel.com.)
...i have always been fairly sensitive, in my family, i have typically been considered fragile. one of the things my siblings were pretty successful in doing for me, was to be careful not to hurt my feelings-even my younger sister would say she knew in that way that she may be the youngest, but i was the baby (most tender-hearted) of the family.
As i grew older, i found tearing up in situations caused others to respond to me in all kinds of unexpected ways...in first grade when i was reprimanded for talking too much in class, i cried...the teacher could tell i was sorry and allowed me to go to recess unpunished. Then in fourth grade, when Mr. Johnson gave me detention, for talking too much in class, he found it very hard to keep me afterwards because of my "big ole crocodile tears". and of course getting pulled over by a policeman has provided opportunities to make use of a couple of kleenex, however, it was purely natural, and not 100% foolproof-I've had my share of speeding tickets nonetheless. i'm not saying these outpourings were meant to be manipulative, just that even at an early age, i noticed that other people could be affected by my vulnerability.
But later in life, this ability to "turn on the waterworks" was not as socially acceptable. My parents were very strong emotional role models. i saw my mother cry a handful of times in my life. My stepDad was ironclad, bone dry. Mostly, the times that they found me among my personal puddles, i wasn't dying, injured, or scarred physically-i'm actually fairly stronghearted and can take most things in stride. My feelings however, have Undoubtedly known one primary place of residency, my sleeves. There are only so many times can you be told to pull yourself together and act your age - before you begin to hold it in. This was just their way of protecting me and helping me understand that other people could be affected by my vulnerability.
Years of training myself to keep it together have gone by. until years recently, i allowed myself a good cry, on occassion. But I noticed it seeping back out during a morning prayer between services among the church staff. These tears reminded me of the ones that fell after the birth of my first daughter. They just came, I could not hold them back, and they felt...good. Then I noticed that the lumps in my throat softened during sweet times, and i am now comforted in the way my cheeks become moistened by the streams that seem to flow frequently. Much more often than I ever imagined letting happen. But this passage reminds me that i am not in control of this phenomena, these joy drops from the midst of lifes circumstances, that permeates this being.
...so when i hear a grown man from our community share a story about hurt and healing, and apologizing for his tears...i have one response-it is my honor, brother.
...And then i am reminded, how other people could be affected by my vulnerability, and to that i also say... it is truly my honor.
