Tears. I’ve got ‘em. Always
have and always will. They were the bane
of my childhood, when I would cry too easily at playground injuries or
slights. I still remember when my 5th
grade class was forced to watch “Old Yeller.”
My grief at the dog’s death was surpassed only by my mortification at
crying yet again in front of my classmates.
Time has tempered my waterfalls- usually. I remember an older preacher once commenting
that “sometimes you just have to suck it up and help others in really emotional
situations without getting that way yourself.”
There was great truth in his words, and I am thankful for the God-given
grace to be present in a situation without falling apart myself. That does not
mean that there are no longer times when I can feel my tears welling up. For instance,
if I know I am telling a tender story during a sermon, I might practice it
until I can say it without clouding up. And there are situations when the right
thing to do is the most natural thing to do; as the old hymn puts it, “and
often for each other flows the sympathizing tear.” By and large, though, I cry
a lot less easily than I did in grade school.
Except for now. It
began while I was officiating a wedding on Saturday. When the organ began “The Wedding March” and
the doors swung open to reveal the bride, suddenly all I could see was Caroline
coming down the aisle to the same song in two weeks. Luckily, everyone was looking at the bride,
not me when I began crying, and I managed to compose myself before she got down
the aisle. The wedding was completed without incident.
The floodgates are now open.
Last night, I watched the 1950’s “Father of the Bride” with the Bride
and the Father and cried. Profusely. (Andy's shirt sleeve was really wet by the end of the movie.) I
was telling some of my favorite church people this morning about that incident
and started crying in the telling. I looked at a
practice flower arrangement for the reception that I had made and cried. It is going to be a wet week and a half.
The thing of it is, these are happy tears. Tears of joy can
be more precious than any other tears. It is such a happy time, a time of
promise and hope, and I want to enjoy every moment of it. If you see me burst into tears in the coming
days, I hope you’ll share my joy and cry along. Oh, and if you’re in the area,
you might bring by an extra box of Kleenex or two.
