Everyday Spirituality

Posts tagged ‘tears’

Where are Your Tears Stored?

Psalm 56: 9

…my tears are stored in your flask;

are they not recorded in your book?

It is suggested that since tears are precious to God they are saved. The whole idea of saving tears has been floating around in my mind this week. It does seem precious and tender to save ones tears. They hold such intimate moments of our life.

A few weeks ago while out shopping I came across this petite clear glass bottle, like an old fashioned perfume bottle. It had a lovely glass stopper that just rested in the outer lip. Nothing was actually keeping the stopper in place. The bottom of the stopper reached deep down inside the tiny bottle. Of course if the bottle had been filled with ones favorite perfume the stopper would have been touching the fragrant liquid.

I think a beautiful crystal perfume bottle would be most appropriate for storing tears. Tears curiously stream forth from our eyes for many different reasons. We cry when we are happy, we cry when we are sad, we even cry when watching a television show knowing it is not reality. We cry when we witness the tears of others. So many different circumstances cause tears to well up in our eyes.

I have written about tears here before, but I have decided that even if the tears do not fall from my eyes or trickle down my face the emotion is present. If the emotion that generates moist tears is real then the emotion too must be considered precious.

The psalmist is trusting that God is truly concerned about his life…his trials and tribulations so much so that he would collect the tears and actually take time to journal their meaning. I really like that image, however trivial it may seem…God caring enough to record my most intense emotional reactions.

I know God does not need to keep a journal of what happens in my life. For a minute though just imagine if he were to keep such a book; it would be astounding for him to record something as small as tears. I am reminded of 1 Peter 5:7 “Cast your cares on him, for he cares for you.” I know he truly does care for me.

I am going to get this little perfume bottle and put it where I can see it often; maybe on my bedside table. I want to be able to glance at this fragile symbol. I want to be able to visualize collecting my tears, either real or those in my heart, into this little bottle. I want to cherish my tears of sorrow and my tears of joy.

No one can say why we as humans have this ability to cry. We even cry when chopping up onions, but you know those are not the tears I am speaking of today.

Perhaps I should also record in a special book those times when I cry or feel like crying. Tears are so personal. Some people try to hide the fact that they are crying, others allow the tears to flow freely oblivious to where they are. I would have to say I am more private with my crying. I keep them to myself.

Since the death of my friend I have given much thought to tears. I think when you accompany a loved one on their journey with a terminal illness you learn special coping skills. So many times when you want to cry you do not, but rather you put on the cloak of hope. This cloak of hope gives you the strength to support your loved one. Somehow part of this hope for me was not to cry or at least not to let her see me cry.

We never talked about crying even in the most intimate conversations we had together. As her illness became more devastating I did not want to cry I just wanted to spend as much time as I could by her side.

When her death did finally come it was almost anti-climactic for me to cry. How could I cry? I had been praying for God to take her to be with him. Tears would not change the fact that I had to release her earthly presence. Now she knows how my heart was flooded with tears no tissue could absorb.

To truly love someone means

there may come a time when you must let them go.

Profound Sadness:The Loss is Great

I do not shed tears all day every day.

It seems so strange…why I do not cry.

The loss is great

The sadness deep inside

There is a kind of comfort in this place.

A space within that knows to Be Still and Know that God is God.

I feel peace and calm inside, but profound sadness.

I am not depressed. I can still laugh and have fun, just sad.

The loss is great

I know she is with me. We spoke about cherishing in our hearts the things that we shared through the years.

I thank God every day for her presence in my life.

Many days I would walk with the heavy knowledge that we were going to lose her. This week I bought a wedding gift for my niece. The box was rather large. Carrying it from gift wrap to the car was a real challenge. I could not get my arms around the box. I had to walk with my arms held out with the box precariously balanced on my forearms. My arms were aching but I could not let the box fall and break its contents. My arms were aching, but I carried this box just as I carried the knowledge of losing my friend. It was so heavy. I would try to distract myself so as not to think about how heavy the “box” was, but I could never put down the box. I could not take the contents out and leave it on the side of the road either. It is hard to see what lies ahead when you are carrying a large box in your arms.

The loss is great

Sometimes I just let people hug me and hold me. Sometimes words are insufficient. And I love words…the way they sound…the way the letters look…the way words come together to make a sentence.

Hugs to me are two hearts touching and silently communicating their care for the other. Hugs can express more than words.

In the Blessed Mother’s suffering and sadness; the soldiers took her son’s tortured body from the cross and laid him in her arms. How she must have longed to hold him close to her and hear his voice one last time. I hope the women with Mary brought her comfort with their hugs.

The loss is great

There is no time table for grief…each person processes their loss differently.

Some people touch our lives only briefly, while others leave a lasting impression and are never forgotten.

(so beautifully written on a card I recently viewed)

I don’t think you overcome the loss of a loved one I believe you absorb this sadness taking it inside of yourself.

The absorbed loss of a loved one transforms you into a more caring compassionate person. Through great sadness you learn to appreciate great love.

May your life be blessed with great love as I have been in mine.

A hug requires no words.

The loss is great


~ The Numbness of Grief ~

Sometimes I just want to go to the top of a mountain and scream at the top of my lungs. There seems to be no release. Days go by and the heaviness of grief is numbing. I can understand why people get caught up in drugs and even those who cut themselves…sometimes you just want to feel something intense. Day after day you guard your emotions.

If I could dance I would be putting my feelings into some wildly expressive dance where everything could pour forth in silence. Reaching out far, stretching up high. The emotions could explode from the very core of my soul. Would dance soothe this deep inner pain? I can only perform this dance in the recesses of my mind while listening to music repeatedly.


The numbness of grief has a pain unique to itself unlike any other. It is a pain that sears your from the inside out. A pain you cannot hide from…a pain you cannot run away from.

If I was an accomplished pianist I would sit at the piano and play with such passion anyone listening would experience the intensity of the magnitude of my pain. Composer/Pianist, Michael Allen Harrison in his composition Fly Away best captures this state of grief for me. It is a heaviness played in the low bass clef and yet there is a light melody creating a delicate balance and then the oboe comes in with tears of lament. The tempo is like a solid drone. Life continues, the sun rises and the sun sets, but it will never be quite the same. The drum beat keeps everything moving forward with heavy footsteps.


Grief makes you want to turn yourself inside out, exposing who you truly are inside. I am at the foot of the cross with the Blessed Mother weeping and holding on to what I was taught and have believed since childhood. I am not alone, but I my tears are held close to my heart.

Do others have the right to enter into your personal space of grief?


Sometimes I think about taking a feather pillow and ripping it open; throwing all of the feathers into the air. Watching the soft white feathers slowly, quietly drifting one by one back to the ground, I find a comforting thought.


Tenderness is how I treasure the many memories…the times that can no longer be shared.

I have been reading Job and the Mystery of Suffering by Richard Rohr today and listening to music. Throughout the book of Job it is easy to identify with how abandoned he feels by God while at the same time being convicted of God’s love for him.

“If we take happiness from God’s hand,

must we not take sorrow, too?” Job 2:10


I had no plan to write these words today; they just flooded into my heart. I really cannot comprehend what my life would be like without music. Music is a spiritual experience for me almost mystical. Music is a retreat in the space of a few precious minutes. Heaven surely has ‘The’ most beautiful music. All of the different instruments harmonizing together remind me of the Body of Christ, the angels and saints worshiping and praising God together in harmony.

I sit with grief as my daily companion, both day and night. Grief is in my dreams. Grief walks beside me like the grim reaper.

I choose life.

I choose to walk in the light.

I choose to embrace all that is part of my journey here on this earth.


Below is a link for Fly Away by Michael Allen Harrison

<a href=”