You know how there are people who cry at everything and
people who just don’t? I have always considered myself as one in the “just
don’t” category. When I think back on my childhood, I can picture long
stretches with no tears. There was the time my dad made me move the week before
the dance recital—but I’m not sure if I was crying out of sadness or just to
make him feel bad. Our propensity to move repeatedly and unexpectedly probably
brought about the most tears, but even those weren’t as prolific as you’d think.
I made it through Old Yeller and Chalotte’s Web with just a sniffle.
I cried
when I left California, but that was mostly just over the weather, so I’m not
sure that counts.
So how did the girl who didn’t shed a tear at her own
wedding turn into this woman who now gets misty eyed nearly every day? I tear
up at track meets and soccer games. It’s rare that I get through church without
my eyes fogging up. I can’t watch videos of my little kids without a box of
Kleenex. Just dusting the DVD shelf and catching a glimpse of the “Up” jacket cover
can make me cry, and Lord help me if the movie is actually playing. I can fill a bucket
within the first twenty minutes.
Transitions are the worst for me. My kids have learned that
mom cries when things change—especially when they change. As much as I’m looking forward to having all four kids
in all-day school next year, I predict rolling sobs, puffy eyes, and a killer crying hangover
all day on August 20.
I could maybe blame hormones? Mid-life women can use that as
an excuse for just about anything. But I don’t think that’s it. I think I know
what it is, and it was best described by the prophet Ezekiel about 2,500 years
ago (because apparently people don’t change that much): “I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of
flesh” (Ezek. 11:19). The first time I read those words, I had no idea what
they meant. “Flesh” is usually a negative term in the Bible, and besides, how
can a heart be anything but flesh?
But now it seems pretty simple to me: A heart of flesh is
one that feels, and it feels deeply. It doesn’t use busyness or distraction to
keep it hard or aloof. It’s what God uses to speak to us, to teach us, to make
Himself more real to us. And sometimes—a lot of times—a heart of flesh cries. Over
the years, the Holy Spirit has softened my heart, making me more sensitive to the
ways of God and the hurts of this world. I never thought I’d say it, but a life
with tears might well be a richer life altogether. Remember that in August when
you see me dropping off my kids at school looking like a drowned rat.
