“…In his favor is life: weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning.”
Psalm 30:5B KJV
Our Tears Are For Our Tears. Tears are what happens when our heart melts. Yesterday my daughter came home with Mason, our new grandbaby. Born in the midst of Covid 19 Pandemic, he is now nine months old. With the Covid shutdown still in progress, and for the second go-round, we had not seen them up close and personal for five months. Although lately our attention has been focused on the baby, it was so great to see our daughter too. She likes to remind us that she is our baby too, and she is.
During Covid 19 Pandemic, and with all that has happened we have been forced to hold back our emotions. With all the devastation, loss of life, and the pain of endurance there has been no time for weeping, crying, nor tears. We have just had to suck it up; hold our breath. Grin and bear it. Anything else makes it look like we have no faith. God forbid!
Somehow, we have been hoodwinked into believing that crying is for sissies or someone who acts like your baby-sister; or cowards; or for wimps, someone without a spine; or someone of little, or no faith. I knew my daughter and the baby were coming home. We had planned and longed for it for several months, since the last time we saw them. Thank God for “What’s App,” which allows us to be there when we are here.
We had seen them, and spoken to them on the phone every day, sometimes three or more times a day; but when my daughter walked into the house with that baby in tow, I cried- like a sissy. My spine went limp and I sorely wept. I let it all go. All the tension and the pension that I had been holding back melted into tears. Grandpa was fawning over the baby, but she and I were locked in a tight grip. Holding on, letting me know that she missed us as much too. There we were two sissies. Crying. Sobbing. Letting go, yet still holding on… to one another. At one point, my tears turned into a bawl. It is a known “fact,” that real men do not cry, nor do they wear pink, but I bet that if they did, my husband would have let out his bawl too. “Lil Momma,” his baby girl was home and she had brought the baby!
I have lost track of the numerous passing of former classmates, and friends, and friends of friends, and families, and co-workers, and funerals in general of those who have lost their lives in these Covid times. Some funerals were cautiously attended, but most of you could not attend because of the health and safety restrictions brought on by this pandemic. They were shocking deaths and totally unexpected. Death always is, but this was just too much. So much so that when you heard of another is passing, the unspoken question was, “Was it Covid?”
Almost every other day my classmate since elementary school and friend for a lifetime sent me a text of another one, gone. I lost track, and stopped counting, or trying to recall the last time I had seen them. But I held my breath each time. And each time I got the news my heart grew stonier because death had become the expected thing. It felt like there was little hope of anyone recovering once the virus had consumed someone.
Persons hospitalized had to suffer alone in ICU beds, without family or friends for fear of contamination; and unfortunately, when someone passed there could be no closure. No funeral. No home-going or celebration of life. Graveside ceremonies became the norm and cremations became the closure of choice. In some cases, there were only parking lot services. There could be no personal contact.
It felt like I could not feel. There were no consoling words. Just mystification. I wore my mask, practiced safe-distancing, and washed my hands, like everybody else; but with every sniffle, cough, or hint of sore-throat pain, I wondered if it was my day. I even wrote out my own obituary and final wishes so that my family would not have to deal with it……… in the event of…. well, just in case.
With so much happening, so fast, there had been no time for tears. There had been 12 months of awe, shock, and sadness, and the floodgate of pain, terror, and loss still endures, even though this is a New Year. Everything has changed. Our lives have been changed forever. With that realization, I let go when I saw my daughter, and I clung to the hope that had brought her home again. It was the “ugly cry.”
Some of us have not been able to see loved ones, or visit with family members, or friends for months. We have longed to see them. To touch. To kiss. To feel, and to be in the company of one another. Yet, while we ache, we are smart enough to know that “…In His favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5B KJV).” I am not a preacher, but I am a witness, and if I could paraphrase this text, I would say “but joy comes in the mourning.” From personal experience, I have learned that it is in the letting go of our pain (whatever that looks like) that we can experience the true joy of a life lived, life lost, and living life again; and that lesson is a process. It is called Sanctification, and it is the work of the Spirit of God.
In these times, I often reflect on Pastors teaching on The Holy Spirit, because I realize that we do not have to bear these burdens alone. Using his “circles,” and the Word of God, we know that God made us three-part beings. Body. Soul. Spirit. As three-part beings, our Body is world conscious. Our Soul is self-conscious. Our Spirit is God-Conscious. God, The Holy Spirit has set us apart for the glory of God. His plan for our lives is much better than what we think. It is not connected to our plan, and The Holy Spirit is our guide. It is in our self-ish, soul-realm, (mind, will, and emotions) that we have the capacity to think, act and feel, that we get off track when life happens, and it is through Salvation by grace through faith that The Holy Spirit is leading us from Sin of self to Trust in Christ. We do not have to stay in the state that we are in.
With all that we have been through- even down through the years- the past year feels like the most difficult again. We have been here before. It has certainly been painful for so many of us, and there is no doubt that this New Year will bring with it some other things that will wipe the smile off our face. We are not done with Donald Trump. Not yet. We are not done with Covid 19. Not Yet. Even with the vaccine we are not done with death and dying. Not yet.
My daughter and the baby came home to stay for a week. I got to watch the baby while she “worked from home.” I cried when they came, but I smiled when they left. So much has changed, and everyone has their own story. I believe that our tears are for our tears, and our tears are what happens when the heart melts. But with God as our Father, it is ok to go ahead and weep. Out loud if you have to.
Submitted by Deaconess Irene Gardon