Chuck Swindoll wrote these words about tears, “When words fail, tears flow.” Tears have a language all their own, a tongue that needs no interpreter. In some mysterious way, our complex inner-communication system knows when to admit its verbal limitations . . . and the tears come. Eyes that flashed and sparkled only moments before are flooded from a secret reservoir. I would also like to add that at times we might find ourselves laughing in the midst of deep pain. There is a fine line between pain and laughter and we never know what form our verbal limitations are going to take. It often happens in those moments when we least expect it. When we are grieving, our complex inner communication system is on overload. My overload often came in the daily routine of stepping into my morning shower. The warm water running down my body into the drain was a trigger for the tears to open up the flood gates. I think it was a way for me to try to get the pressure released so I could once again fill up for the day which was ahead. Often these tears were met with a deep wailing. It was a sound that at first was very foreign to me but soon became a sound I would hear many times over. There was also another sacred place for tears to flow and that was in the confines of my car. Not exactly the best place to have a meltdown, but for some reason, in my car I often reached the saturation point. Wrapped up in the cocoon of my car I would pull over and let the tears flow.
We often have moments when an unsuspecting person happens to walk into our world. They might ask us a simple little question that will put our tear quotient on overflow. I am sure each one of us has had the experience of unleashing a flood of tears on a stranger. While having lunch with some moms who had each experienced the loss of a child, one of the moms shared her unsuspecting person story. She had just come from the cemetery after visiting her son’s grave. It had been a very unsettling visit as she had thought someone had taken her son’s headstone. She left the cemetery and tried to put herself back together as she had chores she needed to accomplish. While walking through the store, she ran into a couple of friends whom she visited with and she held it together as they asked her how she was. She put on her happy face and proceeded to tell a little lie which we have all done. “I am doing well; everything is just hunky-dory!” she stated. As she proceeded to the checkout, she did not have a clue that her secret reservoir had just reached the full mark. As the young cashier asked her how her day was going, the tears came and the story was told to this unsuspecting stranger about the stolen headstone on her son’s grave. I don’t know what the cashier did with this story. I could see him sitting around eating lunch with his co- workers and telling them you will not believe what happened to me today. I just asked this lady a simple
question… We would all like to offer an apology to all of our unsuspecting strangers that have encountered us when there were no words and the tears flowed.
As she finished her story the reaction from each of us was one of complete understanding and then we laughed. We laughed because we had each been there. We each had our own story and that unsuspecting stranger that just asked a simple question. We laughed because sometimes there is no way to make sense of this thing called grief, and sometimes to get through the pain we just need to laugh.
Lord, we thank You for the release of our pressure valves. Tears and laughter speak volumes without words.
– Michele
