Let me start by stating that throughout my entire life I have been a crier. I can recall the people over the years who have commented on my tears, "Why do you cry so much?" Teachers who would comment, "Oh don't worry, she's just a crybaby... she cries over everything." I was told to "buck up, quit being such a sissy." Until recently I've often felt like I've had to hide my tears, those tiny globes of wetness dribbling down my cheeks a blinking neon sign of weakness and vulnerability.
Now I'm beginning to understand that I'm a bit of an empath, or someone who is very empathetic, and this is why I cry easily. I take on the emotions of others, especially pain; it's one reason why wakes just wipe me out. I walk in and am overwhelmed with a sense of sorrow, even if I didn't know the person well {then I look like an asshole crying over someone I may have met once in my life.} But I just can't help it- I take on the pain of the people in the room. It sounds odd and I often don't understand it myself but it's who I am.
The picture above was last week playing outside on a super nice evening Mother Nature blessed us with. I spent the last week keeping my son, my little pal, close to me. That week, the week of March 13th, was an emotionally difficult week for many after learning of the earthquake in Japan and the subsequent tsunami. Being an empathetic person death, even if occurring miles away to people I don't know personally, hits me hard. I can't help but, in my mind, put myself in their shoes. I read an account of a mother who clung desperately to her child, only to have the waves from the tsunami wash her baby away. Images like that don't leave my mind easily or quickly. I will remember that horrific account forever. It is unimaginable to me how that woman's heart will ever be able to survive, and I pray somehow God can ease her mind and heal her soul because now part of her heart is gone forever.
And that is why I clung to my baby boy last week {yes, at 16 months old I called him "my baby;" PJ will always be my baby- even when he's nearly 6 1/2 feet tall and ginormous like his daddy} just so I could feel the soft cuddly weight of him secure in my arms. To wrap him in my embrace with my cheek against his soft little wobbly cheek whispering to God my thanks in blessing our life with our son with an added plea that in this crazy chaotic world full of war and sadness to please keep my baby safe from harm.
Yes I do know there is good in the world. Usually it's what I concentrate on, staying positive and optimistic. But at times when the leader of a country is slaying innocent men, women and children out of crazed madness- people who simply want to be free and no longer under the thumb of a murderous dictator- plus ongoing strife in foreign lands... our world is in a time of upheaval and it's hard not to contemplate such things. I'm the type who can't stick her head in the sand and tune back to whatever is the hit show of the moment to alleviate my worries over the world in which my child will grow.
People will say, "Well if you can't change it then don't worry about it." I wish I could but I don't have an "off" switch for my brain. I have conversation with the Lord, one way conversation but still, contemplating what His role is in all of this... it's a wonder my head doesn't explode.
I feel I can change it, somehow. Here's an example of something that bugs me: the hatred in Yahoo comments, you know, at the end of a news article on Yahoo people can leave comments, and often they are filled with illiterate people who are seething with hatred. I can change that just a bit by teaching my son not to hate, by being a good role model of tolerance to him and his future little friends. To teach him to respect people who are "different." To have unconditional love for himself and others.
In my heart I am a quiet revolutionary, and now that I have a child of my own to teach, guide and nurture maybe I won't be so quiet for much longer.
I am tired of apologizing for my tears.
"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love." ~Washington Irving
