grace in tears

i used to cry.  all the time.  in fact, i would go so far as to say i was known for crying at the drop of a hat.  people used to give me a really hard time for being so sensitive.  i saw it as a curse that i felt things so deeply that my body was actually moved to tears.  several years ago, i made up my mind to change.  to harden.  to de-sensitize.  i didn't cry for a very long time.  it worked so well that even when i wanted to cry to show my sadness, i couldn't.  i don't remember exactly when i got my tears back, but it was shortly after moving to boston.  one day, the floods just came.  and they kept coming.  they especially like to come in public places like movie theatres and churches.  i respond to them differently now, though.  i appreciate them.  i realize that they are simply an outward symbol of the internal compassion i am able to feel for those who experience suffering.  my meditation class this semester has helped me to have a new perspective on what compassion really means- to suffer with someone.  not just to feel sorry for them.  not just to say a prayer and move on.  not to tell them it'll be okay and numb yourself.  but to really feel, in your own way, what they are feeling.  

unfortunately, i have had several occasions recently that have moved me to tears.  not just a little trickle down the cheek, but sobbing that doesn't stop until you realize you can't breathe and there is no saline left in your body.  i weep because i wish that it weren't so.  i weep because dear friends of mine have to endure such pain and loss, and there is nothing i can do to help.  i weep because life is too short.  maybe i hope that in some tiny way, my willingness to feel the pain will take away a tiny fraction of theirs- lighten their load, even to the slightest degree.  

i have always been fascinated by the wailing wall, a most holy and sacred place in jerusalem where jewish people (and others) go to pray.  it is customary to slip a note with a written prayer into a crevice along the wall.  in The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, one of my favorite books, one of the characters, May, builds her own wailing wall in the backyard as a way of coping with the pain she deeply feels for everyone who suffers.  any time she hears something on the news or in a conversation, she writes it on a piece of paper and goes and sticks it in the wall with tears streaming down her face.  in the end, she cannot cope with all of the pain and suffering that she bears on behalf of the world.  who possibly could?  the lesson i learned from her, though, is the importance of feeling, and not trying to hide your feelings or reject them, but letting them live themselves out.  i have been reading Plan B by Anne Lamott lately.  she says at one point that holding your breath is the ultimate withholding, because you aren't taking anything in or letting anything out.  for me, trying not to cry feels like i am withholding myself- some core part of who i am and a gift i have been given.  i can't do it and talk about living an authentic life.  i have to let the rivers flow, feel the sorrow, and breathe.  thank you, God, for the grace to feel, to cry, and to know that it's okay (john 11:35).