The crier

I am a crier. Well, I'm not an all-the-time-crier, because I love to laugh more than crying, but I'm definitely getting soft in my old age. I used to be "tough", whatever that means, refusing to cry and I would just get mad and lash out. I didn't acknowledge pain or fear, I just turned them into anger. And now, as a more self-aware 30-something, I cry. I cry for my family or my friends and I cry for strangers, too. And if you cry in front of me, I will cry with you, whether it's through happiness or sadness. When my friends hurt, I hurt, too. When my friends are happy, I am happy, too. And if I get choked up while telling a story, just ignore me. Or give me hug, but beware, that will probably make me cry even more. 

I sometimes cry when I'm thanking someone because I am truly so thankful that it comes seeping out of my eyes. I don't always feel like "Thank you" and a hug or a pat on the back are enough, which begs the question, how do you adequately convey your gratitude?

I cry at commercials. There used to be a commercial for one of the hospitals in Oklahoma City and they would show different cancer survivors and the last person they showed was a skinny, old cowboy with a rugged, leathered face and a slight hunch to his back, holding his cowboy hat and wearing a plaid shirt and his Wranglers. The first time I saw it I thought, "That's what my brother is going to look like some day," and I immediately burst into tears. You know how that sneaks up on you? You're fine and then all of a sudden you either gasp or you can't hold your breath and some kind of violent puff comes out of your mouth? Yeah, it was like that. It was ugly. I'm glad I was alone. 

I cry when we buy our Angel Tree gifts at Christmas. The angels on our local tree only have practical things like socks, underwear, shirts, or jeans written on the angels. I'm not sure if there's a rule that the children have to ask for things that they need, like clothes, and are not allowed to ask for fun stuff, like toys and games, or not. As D and I were walking through Walmart, I had to walk ahead of him because I didn't want him to see the tears that were about to come out of my eyes. I knew he felt the same way I did, but I just felt a little silly for crying about it. I was looking at these little paper angels and thinking about the little girl and boy who only asked for socks and underwear and it just hurt me that they didn't have anything fun written down. Children should have some fun things. So, I don't know if it broke the rules or not, but we bought them age appropriate toys on top of the clothing items they had asked for. And I'm not sorry if it broke the rules. I'm just not. Sorry for not being sorry. 

Sometimes I cry when I look at old photographs. There are people that I've lost and I miss them terribly. Sometimes I laugh at the memory of something funny, other times I cry from the pain of missing them. The pain of not hearing their voice. Or their laugh. Or the touch of their hand. Or the smell of their cologne or perfume. Or just watching their habitual movements, like the way they walked or held a coffee cup.

I cry when I see people go to the front of the church to pray during the altar call. I don't know what they're struggling with, but I can see that something is bothering them and they're looking to God for help. And while I may not ask what's wrong, because I think if it were my business they would have told me, I am still standing (or kneeling) with them in prayer.

I don't cry because I'm weak, I cry because I need an emotional release and crying is part of a healing process. It allows me to let go of the stress and pain and move forward, rather than to hold it all in and bottle it all up and then explode on some poor unsuspecting person in a fit of rage. I cry because I am a woman who was created from flesh, which makes me more emotional than a man who was created from dirt. So, if you see me wiping away a tear, don't be alarmed, it's just normal. Or I've just watched a cutie patootie baby or animal video with horses. Or dogs. Or kittens. Or bears. Or rabbits. Or lions.