Tears

Tears burst, drip, gush, and trickle; but from what from well do they spring forth? The eyes?  The heart? When we hold them in, back, keep them to ourselves, do they build up like a dam waiting for a future opportunity to overflow? Can they be stored up to be spent another day, waiting for a more opportune time to be displayed publically, or absorbed quietly into a favorite pillow?

We are grieving, or rejoicing, or lonely, or oddly pensive when the tiny droplets slip silently down a tightened jowl. Embarrassed hoping they have escaped unseen, or prayerfully seeking solace from a trusted friend, our tears beg to be accounted, collected, remembered, honored if only within our own watery soul.

Demonstrating courage, we forge ahead, confident that no weapon, no weariness, no brokenness can stand against the loving sacrifice of our Caring Savior. We are held close, protected and comforted by arms we cannot see yet always confident in their gentle strength that never lets us loose.