Tears

I recently listened to a talk by Laurel C. Day about Catching the Goodness of Tears.  I have said it before: I'm a stage 4 crier.  I'm known for my tears among adults and Primary kids alike.  As I listened to her talk about tears of sorrow, tears of joy, and tears of the spirit, I couldn't help but think of all the tears I've shed, and how they've shaped me.  I am becoming myself through my tears.

She talked about how many times tears are mentioned in the scriptures, and how "He Lives to Wipe Away My Tears."  I envision my niece, Allyson, drawing my face, drawn up in anguish, tears flowing continuously, with the Savior's pierced hands cupping my streaked cheeks, thumbs wiping away my tears.  It would be a sketch without color, because sometimes our lives in those moment feel as if there is no true joy or sunshine.  Someday, maybe,  I'll commission that of her.  It's a beautiful thought, Him wiping away my tears.  But he doesn't just wipe them away, he catches them in a tear bottle.  Some scholars believe that for the woman that bathed Jesus' feet with her tears, she would have needed a tear bottle.  What trials and sorrow she must have known to have enough tears collected to wash the feet of our Savior.  My tears of sorrow these last six years could feel a large bottle, I'm sure.

We've been commanded to mourn with those that mourn.  Sometimes that may not be as easy to feel completely empathetic, and others it's absolutely natural because we have felt that hurt before.  There are so many different reasons we weep, and one of those happened for me this afternoon.  A dear friend's son unexpectedly passed away in January, and Randy and I attended the funeral.  We didn't know her son, had never met him before, but I cried deep-sorrow tears from the moment I pulled up to the church to hours after we got home.  It hit me many times throughout the night, including times I wiped away tears I didn't even know I was crying.  I cried for his mother, because I know a little about the tears she has, and will cry.  As it neared the time for the funeral to begin, I nearly sobbed knowing she was being forced to close the casket, never to see his face in this life again.  That moment in time still hurts me so, so much.  I mourn deeply with my dear friend, and feel a profound gratitude for those that stood by me (literally and in my heart) while I buried my child.

I have never really thought about being grateful for my ability to cry, but her talk has given me another way to think about my abundance of tears.  I take comfort imagining Jesus weeping with his friends over the man he knew he would soon raise from the dead.  He knew their sorrows would immediately be changed to joy, but He didn't minimize what they were going through right then; He let them cry, and joined them.  He let them feel.  He knew how much it hurts in this life to lose someone to death, but because of his Infinite Atonement, we need not fear that this life is the end.  And that thought makes me want to cry.