As a teenager, I remember having conversations with my girlfriends about movies and they would talk about how emotional they would get because of the storylines...not me! I didn't cry at Lifetime movies. I wasn't sobbing in the theaters during the end of Armageddon. I just wasn't moved by things on screen like my girlfriends were.
I'm not sure when this changed. I don't know if living in this cruel world has made me more emotional or having children has changed my perspective, but what I do know is that when I see or hear or experience poignant moments, I now seem to cry frequently. Of course, I still try to save these "episodes" for a private setting, mostly in my car. And I never want to burst out the waterworks where I would have to explain to people why I'm crying.
This past week I cried a lot because of the overwhelming sense that this country has hurt a whole race of people. My crying was because I have done nothing about this and I still feel frozen in place, confused what my role could be in changing how my interaction with my black friends and acquaintances can begin the healing that needs to happen. I cried for a mamma who has lost her son and for all of the kids that run through our clinic who are "at-risk" and could easily leave this world way before their time. I cried because this world overwhelms me with our inability to listen to each other and try to understand another side of the story.
However, the nightly news isn't the only thing bringing me to tears. We recently had a World War II ship docked at the riverfront of Chattanooga. I drove by it everyday while it was here. The final morning, the ship casted off and all the men on board saluted those that had come to watch. So many of the people saying good-bye saluted back, and I cried. I've come to realize how much our military has given for us, how their families worry about their safety and how their commitment to their cause is amazing. I respect that and it moves me and so I cry.
I cry after my boys have been tucked in and they have said unprompted "I love yous" and cuddled up in my lap. I cry because I know these days are fleeting and having this crazy emotion somehow helps to solidify memories into my mind.
I cry when I think about my parents, how they've loved me so well. How their lives have changed in this last year and that we are not able to be together during this holiday season. It makes me said that while everyone else's life has gone on, we still spend our days fragmented. I will cry the day I get to hug my dad in person again, without having to talk to him through a brick wall and window. I will cry when I get to see him hold his grandboys and they get to talk his ear off and he won't be able to hear or understand most of it because his hearing is going. But those will be happy tears and maybe they won't show on my face, but my heart will be crying.
This liquid emotion seeps out as I get frustrated for the one-billionth time with being a parent. These little children sure do know how to push every button that sends me off the deep end and yet I am the one responsible for their well-being, their up-bringing, and teaching them right from wrong. So I think I cry with the torment of feeling like I'm not living up to the expectation of parenthood, whatever that is, and realizing that some days surviving is the only option. And ultimately, they are my hope and joy and I would give my life (and possibly my sanity) to make sure they go through this world knowing they are loved by me and a God who has given us an everlasting love.
I really have become an emotional basket case. And I really don't think it's a sign of weakness or wimpy-ness. I think it shows a new connect with this world. It shows that where I could be selfish and ignorant before, God's marvelous grace has penetrated my life and I cannot help but see that others deserve some of that grace too. I will now cry at Lifetime movies, movies about parents and children, love stories, commercials, and newspaper articles. It is not my crazy woman hormones, but instead, I see it as a victory because my emotional outburst show that I have not given up on this life. I am so emotionally attached to the human life and condition, that I cannot help but shed a tear during the happiness and the grief. I hope that as I learn more about our Creator's heart for his nations, that my emotions would reflect His. And that my little confession would allow some of you to know that a good, ugly cry once in a while is good for the soul!
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