Tears and Jerks

I'll be the first one to admit. I'm a cryer. When I see something beautiful or get overwhelmed with compassion I turn into a leaky faucet and for me it can be just as annoying as the tormenting drip that has the ability to make itself known from across an entire house. I can turn my head just enough to avoid revealing my uncontrollable wimpiness or try to wipe away a rogue tear before I'm found out, but it is to no avail. I don't mean to be so sensitive, especially because in my own life and in dealing with the weight of my own circumstances I can certainly refrain from turning into a blubbering mess. What can I say? I'm a sucker for love.

The times though that I have cried and even ugly cried have been for men and for loss. On one hand I can be provoked by the budding hope of a future and on the other am very affected by what seems to be the loss of it. The mature me looks and heartbreak as a learning experience that proves that hope can only be safe when put into one thing. The unfailing God. I'll save my tears for joy and movies. Whatever else provokes the involuntary act will only be considered the necessary water the soil needs to provoke fruitfulness.

Jim Valvano said it best. You should laugh think and cry everyday. That's a heck of a day.

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