Tears. So many tears.
So many reasons.
A niece starting chemo gathers her support group and offers a shears, “Who will make the first snip?” No long strands of brown beauty will be allowed to wash away with the shower head. No. Collected and made symbol of a prayer. God, I want to be healed. Tears are the language I speak in my heart as I smile outwardly and yield my crowning glory to Your healing.
An eight-year-old boy grins as he rides the huge tractor with his grandpa. Home for the holiday, quality time doing something he doesn’t get to do at home. Everyone else went to town, but he chose to stay with his grandfather. Together they work the field, and work closer to each other’s hearts. Then… metal projectiles crack off the disc. Hurtle through the cab. A little boy slumps forward. Not a cry, not a spoken pain. But instantly taken.
Shattered glass. Shattered hearts.
Tears. So many reasons for tears.
But, God said He collects our tears in His bottle. He knows our sorrows. He keeps a record of them in His book. (Psalm 56:8)
In Bible lands and other middle eastern countries there was a tradition to collect the tears of the people present when someone died and place them in a bottle. This bottle represented all the sorrow of the mourners and was buried with the deceased. Many of these bottles have been found in ancient tombs. In some war stories, women were said to have cried into tear bottles and saved them until their husbands returned. Their collected tears would show the men how much they were loved and missed.