I cry very easily. The only explanation I have for this is that this is how God made me. Hard to argue against that, isn't it? It is the truth. I cry when I'm happy, when I'm angry, when I'm confused and when I'm sad. I can be watching something on the TV that touches my heart and the tears fall. I've read a few books that have moved me to tears. Like Dolly Parton says in Steel Magnolias (talk about a tear jerking movie!), "I have a strict rule...no one cries alone in my presence!" And they don't. I get torn up seeing someone else cry...and it doesn't have to be anyone near and dear. The heartache of a stranger is just as difficult for me to see as that of a friend/loved one. I'm sure that I'd have had a busy calendar in Biblical days...I'd have been the best paid mourner in the country side! I get annoyed with myself because of this and of course, that only makes the tears worse. A mature 40-year old should be able to keep her emotions in check, right? Easier said than done...especially on Sundays.
Sunday mornings...look for me on the front row (short girls!) of our church's choir. That's me...down on the end...the one with the crazy, ear to ear smile on her face...the one with the Kleenex in her hand. Sunday morning tears are different. The music really gets me. Sometimes, it's the weight of the lyrics...I get mental pictures of the agony and suffering Christ endured for me...ME! It overwhelms me and leaves me breathless. What kind of great big love is that?? I love y'all, but I'm just telling you, I don't know that I'd give up either of my boys for you...don't know if I could do what God did. Sometimes, it's a memory. I grew up in church and there are some songs that conjure up childhood memories. I can close my eyes and truly hear my Granny singing. She had a very distinctive voice...high and swooping...she'd scoop upward to hit certain notes and pour the notes back out to hit a lower one. Those of you who are musically inclined know what I'm talking about. A choir teacher/director's pet peeve, I'm sure...but in my head, it's a sweet, sweet sound. Other times, the tears are because God's doing a little housecleaning in my heart. See...this just stands to prove that cleaning is bad...if it makes you cry, then it's bad. OK...fine...it's not...sheesh!
I used to get really embarrassed by my Sunday morning cries, but not any more. It might be easier if I weren't in the choir, feeling sort of on display...but that's where I am. I've gotten to the point that I try to picture it being just me and Jesus in the room...and I know that he doesn't mind if I cry. He gave me this tender heart and it would be ungrateful to be ashamed of it. So, don't mind my tears...and if you find yourself welling up, I always have an extra Kleenex.
Sunday mornings...look for me on the front row (short girls!) of our church's choir. That's me...down on the end...the one with the crazy, ear to ear smile on her face...the one with the Kleenex in her hand. Sunday morning tears are different. The music really gets me. Sometimes, it's the weight of the lyrics...I get mental pictures of the agony and suffering Christ endured for me...ME! It overwhelms me and leaves me breathless. What kind of great big love is that?? I love y'all, but I'm just telling you, I don't know that I'd give up either of my boys for you...don't know if I could do what God did. Sometimes, it's a memory. I grew up in church and there are some songs that conjure up childhood memories. I can close my eyes and truly hear my Granny singing. She had a very distinctive voice...high and swooping...she'd scoop upward to hit certain notes and pour the notes back out to hit a lower one. Those of you who are musically inclined know what I'm talking about. A choir teacher/director's pet peeve, I'm sure...but in my head, it's a sweet, sweet sound. Other times, the tears are because God's doing a little housecleaning in my heart. See...this just stands to prove that cleaning is bad...if it makes you cry, then it's bad. OK...fine...it's not...sheesh!
I used to get really embarrassed by my Sunday morning cries, but not any more. It might be easier if I weren't in the choir, feeling sort of on display...but that's where I am. I've gotten to the point that I try to picture it being just me and Jesus in the room...and I know that he doesn't mind if I cry. He gave me this tender heart and it would be ungrateful to be ashamed of it. So, don't mind my tears...and if you find yourself welling up, I always have an extra Kleenex.
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