"Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him."
When my mother died, I didn't feel the need to cry even though I felt the death acutely. Tears would not come. I felt detached. It took me a long time to process the death of my mother. I remember going through the phases of grief throughout my entire adolescence. It took me years to get out of denial. I was on automatic mode.
Losing one parent opens you up to the fact that everyone dies. I had a sense that my father would die before me so years before, I would cry about his death in preparation. When he died, I cried bitterly. I remember being truly mournful when my father was laid to rest. Even preparing for death doesn't prepare you for death. However, when I was done with my crying, there was the peace that I needed. It was present and pervasive. I wanted to take blame for my father's death. I wanted to tell myself that it happened because I didn't do a good job taking care of him. The peace that I felt did not let me take blame. It was the will of God and His sovereignty that my father died. This was clear even when I didn't know what God's Sovereignty was.
I cried when my husband died. I cried but I was surprised when I didn't have more tears. People would ask me how I was doing I and would tell them (and I still do), "God is good!" There was no stiff upper lip. I truly was okay in that moment. Some would tell me, yes but even Jesus wept. I didn't feel like crying though. The pain of loss doesn't always bring you to tears.
Now that a year has passed, I still have tears. I feel that these tears are not for Santi... These tears are for me. These are selfish tears that I cry when the silence seems so loud. These tears are for the years that I have yet to live on this earth. The tears, I think, are for the long days not sharing life with the one that I love. I tell stories now and I have to give people a warning that I am going to cry. I'm always so surprised when the tears come. I let them. I let them drip down my face and I wonder what damage they are doing the the make up I put there. I wonder if the highlighter and blush will betray me to make tracks down my cheeks. I walk around with concealer in my purse.
I was of the notion that crying was for the weak. Now I embrace the tears and I see that being brave in crying allows others who feel like crying to pour out their emotions instead of holding them all inside. I'm a cryer. Yup, that's me.
You want to know what really makes me wail? Jesus. I'm driving to work and I'm listening to the Christian radio station, crying. I'm careful not to look at the other drivers. I know what they are thinking, "Another emotional female driving on the road." When I'm driving with my son he is always worried. "Mom, don't cry! You're driving!" He turns off the station or changes it. He's so funny. He makes me laugh. There are times when I just can't help it. It's like the joy of knowing that I am loved and safe pushes out all the doubt and fear until I am left...better. This is what Jesus does. I am so thankful to have a Savior who understands what it is to cry. Jesus wept and so do I... and it's okay.