If you were to ask Brad to name something that has surprised him in our relationship, one thing he would probably mention is how very little I cry. It’s not that I never cry - I’m not like Cameron Diaz’s character in The Holiday - I do have feelings. In fact, for most of my life I’ve been a deep feeler. But over the years, I have become pretty good at controlling my emotions, not letting myself get too caught up in things that will inevitably lead to tears. Good or bad. If a sappy scene comes on the screen or I’m listening to a touching story or I see someone else in tears, I find a way to remove myself and not get too emotionally involved. If I feel like I have the time and energy to cry, I will. But most of the time, I choose not to.

However, thank goodness a little over a year ago, that all started to change. It was November 2019 and I found myself at another writing conference. I’d rented a cute little air BnB on an actual farm and was probably most excited about that detail of the trip. But the actual writing conference? To be honest, that was kind of a make-it-or-break-it deal for me. 

I’ve always loved words - writing them, speaking them, reading them - and I’ve always wanted to craft words that make a difference for someone else. But for a multitude of reasons, I hit a wall in my writing. And in the weeks leading up to this conference, I asked God to use this time away to make it abundantly clear if I should throw in the towel or not. Looking back, that was pretty bold of me to ask, but it was an honest request. I was fully prepared to switch gears and go a different route, put my energy toward something else, but I wanted to make sure God was actually leading in a new direction and wanted some sort of confirmation. We all want that when we’re trying to make a decision, right?

So I sat down for the opening session, a little unsure, but ready. The lights dimmed and Arielle Estoria, who I mentioned in last week’s episode (and also whose name I completely mispronounced last week! My sincerest apologies.) But Arielle walked on stage and started speaking powerful, beautifully crafted words to a room full of writers. My throat tightened. My eyes began to sting. I was trying to hold back tears with every ounce of my being, but for the first time in a long time, I couldn’t hold them in and I started to cry.

I didn’t know what was going on. This was so unlike me. What was happening? As Arielle finished, I quickly gained my composure and was ready to move on. However, then Emily P. Freeman took the stage to welcome us all. And before I knew it, I heard these words come out of her mouth:

“I also want to invite you to pay attention, especially when you tear up because…tears are tiny messengers sent from the deepest part of who you are to remind you where your heart beats strong and to remind you that here is where you come most fully alive and you are not to apologize for those tears. You are to welcome them and you are to pay attention and be open to them. That's your invitation.” 

So I decided to do just that and began to pay attention to my tears. This past year, I made a commitment of sorts, that whenever I felt like crying, I would. Instead of stifling and bottling up how I was feeling, I’d be willing to open the floodgates. And this probably goes without saying, but I sure picked one heck of a year to make room for tears.

I share that because one thing I’m learning through this commitment is that our tears often reveal what is going on within us. Even if we’re able to somewhat control them, the fact that we even WANT to cry tells us something. I know it might seem obvious, but tears are a literal outpouring - an extension - of how we feel. Our bodies manifest our feelings in multiple ways, but to me, and as Emily shared, tears feel like they come from the deepest parts of who I am. And the deepest parts are probably the most important. As well as the most overlooked.

Sometimes, the message of our tears seems obvious. I am sad. I am frustrated. I am hurt. I am scared. Sometimes, those emotions are even intertwined. For instance, I’m angry, but also, deep down I’m scared. I’ve learned the importance of sitting with them and processing. Of truthfully naming them. Because we need to reflect in order to heal. And tears can certainly lead to healing. 

But more often, I find that the message of our tears is a bit more subtle and nuanced. Yes, tears reveal our grief and our pain. But they also reveal our joy and our gratitude. They reveal our deepest longings and desires. They reveal our ability and need to connect with one another. And sometimes they simply reveal that we’re exhausted and need a good night’s rest. Our tears reveal and it’s important to listen to them.

But while they can reveal, I’m also learning that our tears can remind. Our tears remind us of what we already know to be true.

Why did I cry in the opening session of that writing conference? Was I just exhausted after a long travel day? Nervous about what the next few days might hold? Maybe. But maybe Arielle’s words reminded me of how I was created. The ways in which I was intricately wired. Maybe those tears were exactly what I’d asked for - the first confirmation of many that weekend -  that I needed to keep crafting words because that is exactly how I was crafted. Maybe my tears were a reminder that we’re allowed to do what we love. And maybe we’re meant to.

Whether they reveal or remind or maybe do a little bit of both, our tears have significance and they are worth paying attention to. It’s worth taking the time to consider why we cry: the song, the movie, the story, the sermon, the handwritten note, the interaction, the relationship, the isolation, the loss, the gift, the heartbreak, the achievement, the disappointment, the relief, the distance, the reunion, all the small details laced throughout our lives. Those tears are worth welcoming.

In Psalm 56, there is a verse that mentions how God interacts with our tears. Verse 8 says,

You keep track of all my sorrows.

    You have collected all my tears in your bottle.

    You have recorded each one in your book.

Our tears are certainly associated with more than just our sorrow. We know that. But what I love about this verse is that it shows how significant our tears are to God. When we let our tears out, God bottles them up. God is involved and spends time collecting them, recording them, redeeming them, using them to speak to us. God is right there with us in our tears, whether they are joy-filled or grief-stricken. Subtle or obvious. Streaming or slowly trickling down one by one. And if God cares about our tears, they must matter. 

Today, remember to welcome your tears. You have permission to cry. May we learn to care about the deepest parts of ourselves and listen to the messages our tears carry.