"I don't cry" used to be my excuse. Sure, I would cry in private, behind closed doors, but rarely in front of others. My mom was the exception- she was the one who saw all the tears. With everyone else, I became a master of avoidance when it came to any sort of emotional vulnerability. I prided myself on being strong. What bullshit that line of thinking was. Looking back, I see relationships that were significantly hindered by my stoic responses to life. I missed the abundant life in all situations and all emotions.
If you know me today, you've likely seen me cry. No, I don't cry at commercials and hallmark cards. But I cry when I'm sad, when I'm joyful, when I hurt, when I'm scared, when I'm angry, when I'm overwhelmed. I cry because I'm passionate. I cry because tears are healing. I cry because the tears that fall from my eyes are an indicator of my heart. I'm afraid that if my tears dry up, so will my heart. Sometimes my eyelids well up, but the tears never actually fall. Sometimes the tears pour down amongst sobs, making it impossible to see and difficult to breathe. I treasure the tears, thankful that God is moving within me and sanctifying me no matter what the circumstances.
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