TEARS

 

TEARS

March 20, 2026

Lately, my tears have been flowing pretty freely. They could break through during a movie, a short film, a personal encounter, a story, or even a slight glance. 

Sometimes it can be a curse to see pain as it exists in the present. Not all tears represent sadness, though. Over the last few years, I have learned that life contains beautiful moments of joy, happiness, and love. This should have been developed in my formative years, but those moments were spent in survival mode, figuring out the next hiding place or the next escape plan. So many tears were dropped in so many different places. Never to be found and lost in time. 

I want this story to uncover and define the tears of joy and the joy of sadness. The tears seem to come from the same aqueduct but from different regions of our hearts. That’s what makes this story both complex and simple at the same time. 

I spent most of my life fighting tears as if they were the enemy. I still fight them from time to time. The older I get, the more I lose this battle. Tears can jump out of my eyes in an instant. 

While I write, I usually play music in the background. I’m writing this story in my office, which also houses about four hundred vintage records. One of my favorites is playing right now, and it is speaking so loudly to me that I have to share it with you. I remember hearing this song for the first time when it was released in nineteen seventy-four, and it became my theme song; it describes my life as it was then. I encourage you to go and listen to it now. It’s called Haven’t Got Time for the Pain by Carley Simon, and it’s about moving past heartbreak and emotional struggles and choosing to focus on healing rather than dwelling on the hurt. It emphasizes letting go of the pain and not letting it take up space in your life. 

The pain I didn’t have time for then was buried deep in my soul, and I promised never to visit it or even shed a tear for it. It didn’t deserve the time or effort, as it had one goal, and that was to destroy me. I know we all have these memories, no matter how we grew up or what we encountered in life. We have a pain that we decided never to have the time for. This was my coping mechanism, and I believe it’s true for most of us. 

Turns out, some sixty years later, I had to find time for the pain, or it was going to end my life. This pain surfaced with a vengeance, and I didn’t know what to do with it. The tears flowed deep into the night, screaming unbearably in my mind. It became a voice in my life and started to control me. It would surface at any time; a simple grocery store or gas station visit would send me over the edge. My heart would start to pound, and I looked for a way out. 

Lisa, my sweet wife of forty years, sensed something was surfacing, and she knew it might be bigger than both of us. She has always had this second sense of my inner being and how it speaks. Her persistent question to me is always, “Are you ok?” She speaks her concern in the softest voice you could ever imagine. She follows with, “How can I help you?” Even today, she said, “I am here; I will shield you. I’m here for you.” She sees the struggle in my eyes, which opens a pathway to my pain, the gateway to my soul. 

One of the primary ways I’ve dealt with pain in the past is to separate from anything or anyone who causes it. It was so simple back then, and even now, I find myself falling back into that way of thinking. If it causes pain and tears, then I want to separate from it. Be it a story or a relationship, I end it and cut it off. No matter the cost, it has to go.

Over the last four years, I have learned that this is not a healthy way to deal with pain. The tears are still there, and these voices still seek to build a front and destroy. I believe I’ve made enormous progress over the last four years by learning to deal with pain; now my tears are turning from pain to joy. The tears flow from the joy of the relationships with friends and family. The healing in so many areas of my life has changed me. With every victory, there seems to be a counter to the pain that surfaces. 

The tears are recognized by what’s encapsulated in them. Every tear has a purpose. Some have the purpose of joy, and some have a purpose of pain release. You have to look at each tear that is released and question it. Why this tear? Look at it and discover the origin and the purpose, and then discover the extraordinary healing that tears can bring. Tears are like writers; they are storytellers.

If I haven’t said it yet in a way you can understand, your tears can lead you to death, or they can bring overwhelming joy to you. Your tears can bring your pain to the surface; it’s an opportunity to discover healing. There is one key element to this whole process: be willing to go down that path. 

The tears of joy are radiant and spontaneous, a sacred release of memories once held or new ones being formed. If placed under a microscope, they would shimmer with the language of love, mercy, and grace. These tears have the power to bring you to your knees, stirring a depth of emotion that words cannot explain. For so long, I’ve lived without them. Now they come quietly, mostly from moments with family members or through simple conversations of victory. Yes, the victories encountered over the last few years have brought these tears to existence. There is a river within me now, no longer held back and flowing freely without restraint.

There is an old saying: “Your past colors your future.” I believe that now, but we still have the power to choose the colors and how they are expressed. The tears of pain and suffering will rise; they are raw, unfiltered, and at times overwhelming. They demand to be acknowledged and not hidden deep in our souls. These tears are a raging river, carrying the weight of our most difficult seasons—the places where sin once took root, where wounds were inflicted, where we faltered, and where we were broken. It’s where torture took place, and it’s where death called us, but we didn’t answer. 

These tears of death are extremely heavy in so many lives today. Seek help from a friend, a spouse, a family member, or even a stranger who will listen. 

Tears are transparent, and when they are seen, they desire a response. Never be so busy that you bypass the opportunity to jump in and join the river of joy or the river of sadness. Both bring healing. Tears are telling a story of His amazing grace. Once lost but now found. Find time for the pain, or it will find your time.  

Editor: Sandra Wester  www.sandwestedit.com 

An Amazing Journey

As many of you may know, God allowed me to be involved in a water sports ministry for two years in 2005 and 2006. My experiences there helped me to grow in my spiritual walk. Looking back now, I can see right where God had me and why. Many of my stories are accounts of what took place at those events, as they were so life-changing. I am no longer part of that ministry as God has moved me in a new direction. I praise God for the times I had there and love all the people I met. This story originated in Texas. We were working with an extraordinary group of volunteers and a group of kids who were in an emergency shelter. Read my account as it takes you halfway through the season.

The journey this year has been more than amazing. Lots of highs and so many lows. The mountain tops have been high, and the lows have been crushing. Honestly, my life was changed forever in Texas. When I pulled up on the site, I met this kind lady, Terri. I had talked with her many times before via email and phone. She had every detail in order, all the paperwork done, the boats in the water, and volunteers willing to give their entire day for these kids.

I thought to myself, “This is going to be a relaxing day.” Terri even asked me, “What do you want to do, just ride in the boat?” “Sure,” I replied quickly. I needed a break. We were in the midst of many events, and it was so refreshing to see that they had everything planned out. We had a brief meeting with the volunteers. What a wonderful group of people, I thought as I talked. You could tell they were ready to pour out their love to these kids. Skiing was not the focus of the day. It was the kids.

The kids arrived; there were several older teens in the group. So off we went to the boats, allowing most of them to ski. This club really knew what they were doing. At one point, our boat came in, and I got out for a bit. I was just hanging around and talking with the kids. I am always interested in their stories. So, I asked, “What’s your story?” Each time I asked this, I got, as expected, the deepest and most devastating accounts of their lives. Not sure why that was, but it just happened that way.

One girl I talked to told me, “All I want to do is go home; I just want to be with my family.” Her story can never be repeated as she told it. It was horrific to say the least. It was a true picture of the depravity of man. Not all was hopeless, though. She still had dreams and shared a few of them with me. One thing that I noticed was her eyes. As I looked past her pretty, green eyes, I could see the pain I had seen all summer long. It’s in the eyes. I tried not to look, but they kept drawing me in. Please help me, they cried out. I remember praying for her in my heart right where I was standing. After talking to her, I just shook my head in disbelief. I was hurting.

At the end of every event, I was able to talk with the kids about life and God’s love for them. As I was talking to this group of kids under the tent that day, I looked over to my right, and there she was, standing almost up front with me, just staring at me. I don’t think I will ever forget those eyes as I shared the message of the Gospel that day, a message of hope that I knew could change her life. Something was missing, and I knew what it was. It was the love of Christ in her heart. At the end of the day, all of the kids left and took most of their pain with them. I say most of their pain because I took some of it with me.

To remember that year, I reflect on that little girl’s eyes. I learned through this to give less of me and more of the Gospel, more of God’s word, and more of the Love of Christ. This is the true message of hope, not my life experiences, but the life of Christ.

As I gave the invitation, I raised my head, opened my eyes, and I saw those beautiful eyes. I could hear the cries from deep in her soul, and I could feel the pain she had been through. I was not giving up. “Will you come? Will you come?” I cried. All the while knowing I could do nothing. It is all God who gives this hope of life, not me. I wanted to go over and put my arm around her and tell her how much Jesus loved her, but I knew God would speak to her heart. She looked up at me, and our eyes locked again. I told her Jesus loved her and that He could help her deal with all that she was carrying. All I could do was thank God for all He had done.

Over the past two days, we have seen more people come to Christ than ever before. I was asked, “Why do you think that is”? I have so many things going on in my heart right now, so all I can say is less of me and more of God. The power is in the Gospel; the power is in God’s word and not mine. I am dying to myself.

That is where I am at right now. Dying to myself. As I spend more time in those crushing moments, I am learning to deny self and depend on God in every moment. I am also convinced that the human eyes and mind can only take in so much. As I sit here in this airport, I am in tears, reflecting on the last two weeks. Unable to talk about it any longer, but just hoping to write and get it out of my mind.

I am close to collapse as my mind and soul can only take so much of living in a world that is all too familiar to me. The pain and the suffering I take in, not knowing what to do with it. Where can I pass it on? Who can I pass it on to? Will you take it, Lord? Please help me!

www.sandwestedit.com