If you’re divorced, you’ve cried.
Has anyone ever tried to stop you from crying? “There, there,” they’ll say, “It’ll be alright.” If you’ve been divorced or are working your way through one, I’m sure you’ve had something similar happen to you because divorce nearly always means tears.
Finding people that are comfortable with your tears is sometimes hard to do. I saw discovered that one day when I entered the crowded room of a woman was being discharged from our hospital after undergoing a routine hysterectomy.
The morning brought terrible news -- her house had burned to the ground the previous night. Now, the social workers and I were the preverbal “king’s men” summoned to put her humpty dumpty world back together again. I introduced myself as the hospital chaplain and grasped her hand and simply said, “This has been a pretty difficult day for you. I understand you received some terrible news.”
Up to that point she had kept her composure, but upon hearing those words, she erupted in loud sobs. All she could do was shake her head acknowledging the truth in my statement.
At this point, you need to know that my wife teases me by telling people that I have no job satisfaction unless I can make people cry. I should probably explain that statement. She knows that I talk to people about intimate matters and when people want to deny their pain and suppress the tears, they recite “just the facts.” But as people are given permission to safely unfold their story without ridicule or critique, the tears become the stream which floats the story. The tears can be the only tangible indication that that truth is about to surface for air.
But, not everyone is as impressed with my skill to encourage tears as is my wife. That was certainly the case that day because the tears brought a very tall and menacing 19-year-old man in my direction.
“Get out of here!” he commanded. “Pardon me? I asked, begging for understanding.
“You’re making my mamma cry!” he accused. “Making?” my mind questioned the incredulity of the accusation.
Still sobbing, the woman used one hand to direct her son out of the room and her other hand to anchor my hand to her side. “Get out of here!” he repeated, ignoring her direction. “You can’t come in here and make my mamma cry.”
“Maybe,” I slowly and guardedly suggested, “I am the only one who has come here today willing to give your mother permission to cry.”
His mother nodded in more agreement, but my suggestion went right past him. He repeated his order and brandished his fist just out of his mother’s view. “You!” his mom declaredly defined, “are the one who is leaving. Right now!” she barked.
“Mama,” he pleaded. Mama had the real power. “Now!” she ordered. Right now before I have them call hospital security.” With that, he found an exit. I stayed as the social workers devised a plan on where she would spend the next few days. The tears diminished in proportion to which problem was shared.
In the man’s efforts to suppress the tears, he was actually telling his mother that their pain was too much for him. Perhaps I should have asked, “If she stops crying, will you feel better?”
There are many people who will seek to dismiss your pain and your tears with a pat on the back or a quick hug because your tears are making them uncomfortable. They have mistaken the symptom of tears for the actual problem. Subconsciously, they believe they can solve your problem when they help you dry up the tears. They do this because your tears are a reminder that all relationships are subject to breakdown.
Don’t let anyone dismiss your tears. Tears are meant to heal. Tears are God’s river to the soul and they are the quenching source of new life.
Please e-mail Chaplain Norris at norris@thechaplain.net or by letter at PO Box 19522 Sacramento, Calif. 95819-0522 You may also visit his Web site at www.thechaplain.net where you can see past columns or purchase his book, "No Small Miracles."