At least twice recently, when saying goodbye, I’ve whispered into friends’ ears, “Thank you for your tears.”
It was after time well spent, but my favorite moment was when eyes-leaked-heart.
The tears represented both vulnerability and empathy; both were captured in these precious beads.
Last Sunday, I heard a woman speak about the most important things in life, and I found myself nodding in epiphanous agreement throughout, but the moment near the end when her eyes-leaked-heart was my favorite part.
Please don’t apologize for crying. That’s the good stuff. Those raindrops from above are a precious, refreshing gift.
—they’re just love.
Cry, baby.
Passing the Kleenex can be helpful, but it’s mostly the reciprocity of tears that fuses us.
There’s nothing to be ashamed of.
There were times when my children’s tears were contagious. I’d press my cheek to theirs so our tears would meld and marry, becoming one continuous body and connective tissue.
Holy water.
You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.—Ps. 56:8