“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before–more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.” ―
I think we all need to cry more often.
We too often become cynical, too big for our britches, or just emotionally worn out (numb). You don’t feel like feeling. Then, one day, out in the parking lot, hauling your bags out of Target you see a young mom struggling to put her child and giant purse into the minivan. A memory hits you right between the eyes and all the way down to your soul. Bam!
Over the past few years I’ve noticed that I’m crying without warning over things that aren’t necessarily that moving. I just am overwhelmed for some reason and whatever it is – it floods out. It’s not a sadness or unhappy feeling. What I’ve been experiencing is just a flood of emotion that spills out. I was describing a documentary about public education in America today among friends and I got all choked up.
What’s on your list these days?
- A modern day despot invading a weak and helpless neighbor country?
- That Christmas commercial of the grandpa lifting weights? Oh my goodness! Who cares if it is Dutch.
- A senior class of underprivileged high school students hearing from a generous donor that he’s going to pay all their college expenses and launch them into a different future?
- A little boy who runs out to watch the garbage truck drive by every week, and each time receives a “hello” honk from the driver? That expression of joy on his face every single time.
- A helpless family suffering a sudden tragedy and strangers from their community swoop in to rescue?
- A pet who finds his way home, years later?
Recently I saw a 2019 video of the Kentucky All State Choir singing the National Anthem in the atrium of their hotel (click the link). It makes me cry every time.
“Memory is the diary we all carry about with us.” ―
I’m sitting here looking past my lap at one of my books, “Poems That Make Grown Men Cry.” Well, have you read any poetry lately? Might that not be a dose of good medicine for you? How about digging out that old college literature book off the shelf and go back and look at something vaguely familiar.
Years ago I had marked out this poem,
REMEMBER – Christina Rossetti