I love to see genuine, uncontrollable emotion. I love it in all forms. Uncontrollable laughter. Unbridled enthusiasm. Profound grief without anger, and emotion that wells up in your throat and stops the words.
It’s been a long time since laughter has taken total control. Maybe I have seen too much and heard too much, but I miss that surprise that sends me into laughter than makes my eyes water and nose run (strange mixture). You see unbridled enthusiasm at sports events and you will see it on Super Bowl Sunday. But it is an incredible gift in the eyes of a child when grandpa tells them he is taking them to Disneyland. Grief in its purest form is a tribute to love. The tears flow and cannot be stopped as the loss is so profound. C.S. Lewis expressed it this way, “We hurt so much because we loved so much.” Then there is the emotion that sneaks up on you and catches you by surprise.
If you remember the old telephone commercials produced before cell phones and we were all tied to land lines. When I went off to college mother told me to write often but don’t call unless it was an emergency. Phone calls were too expensive. So, many did not make too many calls and we all tried to avoid the long distance calls, especially if money was tight. Those 30-60 second commercials got me in the tear ducts every time. “He called home.” That’s the right phrase. It was usually a son calling his mother. We are the neglectful ones, rarely the daughters.
I love it when it happens in church. It tells me the speaker feels this very deeply. It has touched his or her heart. It catches them on a level they did not expect and they communicate that response on a level deeper than words can express. That happened to my full loving, happy-go-lucky, exuberant pastor this morning and I heard his heart deeper than ever before.
When I speak I can rarely get though a talk without that happening to me. There are times I wish it didn’t happen. There are times I am embarrassed because I didn’t expect it would happen. It usually comes in connection with a story. For me it has to do with talking about my family.
That is not the only times, of course. Either my tear ducts are getting bigger or I am becoming a big bag of sentiment. When I got home from church and prepared lunch I sat down to eat and watch TV. I turned on pair’s figure skating. The couple they just introduced were third or fourth after the short program and not expected to climb above second. Everything was great as they started and they just got better and better and more perfect as they went. When it was over they were embracing unbridled joy and my tears rejoiced with them. Then when they won I gulped a few times trying to stop the water works. If I counted all the times in a day that my emotions bring me to a tear or two there would be a dozen on more.
Before our pastor spoke I was about to take the offering with a mother and her seven or eight year old son working with her. The pastor acknowledged the “usher in training.” And used it to talk about all of us using our time to step in. He then asked the boy if he wanted to pray for the offering and much to the pastor’s surprise, he said yes. Tears instantly came to my eyes. It was touching and beautiful. He had one very proud mom, and there was a very proud congregation as well.
I got caught with a lump in my throat a few more times in that figure skating program. I even ached with each fall. A few weeks back my granddaughter played in a semi-final soccer match. If they won they advanced to the finals. The teams were tied at the end of regulation time and she had scored both points for her team. There was a shoot out to determine the winner. Five players for each team would take turns kicking. Grace was first. She missed, as did the next nine. The final shot was by the opposing team and she hit the mark. That was a good reason to cry with her. Weep with those who weep.
But here’s the kicker. I was watching NCIS Miami tonight. A routine program, but two potential suspects were twins separated at birth. The victim was their sperm donor dad and both had contact with him. One needed his birth dad for a liver transplant. Both families were at the station and at the end both were put in the same van together for a ride home. I know it was written to make us feel this way, but you could see it in the eyes of the health one. He knew he could save the life of his before unknown brother. They got in the van and are looking at one another and the door closes and the program ends. I cry. It’s s dumb TV program. Nothing is real. It’s pretend and I still cry for the dying boy and the healthy one’s growing love for his brother.
Get a grip. I must have been saving up tears for years because they pour out for the least little thing. It was a TV show I was barely watching. I was trying to read a compelling book at the same time. I barely knew what was happening, but that moment got me. We are emotional beings. I love that about people. I could do without the anger, but its all part of the package that God gave us all. We just have different amounts of each. Anybody want some of my tears?
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