The Tears Never Stop

A number of years ago I heard Evangelist (now Pastor) Will Galkin say, “Most Christians are one well-worded question away from tears.” My tears don’t wait for a question right now. They show up when I try to sing, talk, preach, write, listen to music, read a text or just think. They seem to always be lurking just below the surface. Sometimes I can predict when they will make their entrance, and other times they catch me by surprise.

They are present when I am at home, church, in the car, with groups of people, or by myself. They show up when I think about how much our lives have been upended, and how much Michael has already suffered just three weeks into our 2-and-a-half-year journey. They show up when I think about how the rest of my kids are hurting.

A few days ago, I walked into our kitchen just in time to see my second child burst into tears. As I held her in my arms and let her sob into my chest, she said, “You keep talking about the new normal, but nothing seems normal!” We cried together and talked about how “normal” has changed, and how I expect it to change several times in the coming weeks and months. We talked about how God is letting our family go on this journey together and how we would have to figure out what “normal” means each time it changes. My heart breaks not only for Michael but also for my other kids. Their lives have changed forever too. I worry at times (yes, even Pastors can be guilty of that sin) that with so much attention being focused on Michael, my other children will feel overlooked or lost in the shuffle. I concluded my time with my second child by praying with her. We asked God to help us become more like Jesus through this trial.

The tears come when I think about how much life has changed for Michael. He will be out of school until at least May. While home, he will be taking classes online at his own pace. When he does get to go back to school, it is likely that he will be on completely different lessons than his classmates. School will be more about the social interaction for him than the academics. Michael has always been naturally athletic. He has excelled at any sport that he has cared to participate in. He will now most likely miss at least two years of varsity soccer.

The tears come, ironically, when we are the recipients of people’s generosity and love. I cannot begin to list all of the ways that dozens if not hundreds of people have reached out, sent care packages, brought meals, given us gift cards, ordered T-shirts, prayed with and over us, and showed us countless acts of kindness. One of the silver linings of Michael’s fight with cancer is the innumerable ways in which people have been a blessing to us. We have had people who were complete strangers to us reach out and tell us they were praying for us. Our hearts have been overwhelmed, and the tears have flowed freely as we have experienced God’s grace through the hearts, hands, and words of His people.

Music has always had a way of moving me to tears. And it has gotten worse as I have become older. I sometimes sing for the special music at our church, and on more than one occasion have been moved to tears in the middle of the solo. Singing special music is off the table for me for the foreseeable near future. I can’t even get through the congregational singing without crying.

Recently, my tears have flowed most often when I see my wife’s tears running down her face. In the 18 and a half years that we have been married, I have never seen Sarah this heartbroken. I cannot begin to count the number of times in recent weeks that we have held each other and cried. I know her momma’s heart is breaking in a way it has never been broken before. We pray together regularly, and I pray for her daily, begging God to give her the grace that she needs for each moment of the day. And I ask Him for the wisdom that I need to know how to lead my family through this season of tears.

In our mom van, we currently have Ben Everson’s CD What a Journey playing. On that CD there is a song called “Sometimes He Calms the Storm.” (If you look it up, make sure to check out Ben’s version of it. It is, by far, better than the original in my opinion). The words to the chorus of the song have meant a lot to me recently:

Sometimes He calms the storm
With a whispered peace be still
He can settle any sea
But it doesn't mean He will

Sometimes He holds us close
And lets the wind and waves go wild
Sometimes He calms the storm
And other times He calms His child

Our storm has just recently begun. We are trying our best by God’s grace to rest in the calm assurance of His presence, His love, and His all-sufficient grace as we go through this season of tears.