I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. Psalm 6:6
You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, each tear entered in your ledger, each ache written in your book. Psalm 56:8, NLTTears. There’s always more of them it seems. More often that rain dropping from the skies does the rush of liquid course down one’s cheeks, mostly unchecked, until the nose plugs up and the necessity of breathing becomes paramount for a bit. Choking sobs of pain, rage and fear added to an assortment of other emotions describes a mom who has lost a child to suicide. Does the flow every stop? Does the ocean ever stop heaving its load of waves upon the shore? No, it continues in its rush to nowhere, flowing in and flowing out. As sure as the tide flows in two directions, our tears will continue to fall as long as we draw breath. But the passage of time checks the tears. They become less frequent, but they have a purpose, like a washing machine cleans a load of clothes, our tears wash away the pain of grief on the inside so we feel cleansed, at least for the moment.
It’s exhausting work, but necessary for tears give pain a voice even when you can’t think of one word in your numb mind. Is it possible that dewy tears have their own language? Since the God of heaven cares enough about out tears to save them (Psalm 56:8), maybe His eyes can read the love language inscribed on each teary prism.
Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Psalm 126:5