Before 2008 when I moved to Philadelphia, I never cried. Never. I mean it. I could count the number of times I cried in high school on one hand. Okay let me rephrase that, I could count the number of times another human being saw me cry on one hand. But I moved to Denver, and I grew up in many ways, both big and small. Then I moved back East, thinking I left the West behind. But unbeknownst to me, the west must have gotten into my soul in a way that unleashed the waterworks of my eyeballs. I started to cry in 2008 and I just don't think I ever stopped.
I have a tendency to cry at the most inopportune moments - like on the bus where it is quiet and full of strangers, in front of boys who become paralyzed with fear and anxiety when they see the welling up of a girls eyes, while wearing make-up, and at work.
There is something exposing about crying, because at least when I cry I know it is not pretty and I tend to say things I don't mean. Picture this...my mouth turns downward and the cheeks wrinkle towards my ears, tears stream and the make up runs with it, my voice starts to get really high-pitched and then all my words start to run together to form one-giant-run-on-sentence. I see the look on people faces, the look of utter concern and utter shock that my face could distort in that way. In order to break the tension and awkwardness of the situation, I begin to talk and say exactly whats on my mind, throwing "appropriate conversation etiquette" right out the window.
Over the years, I have realized that I tend to exaggerate things...including the way I describe my levels of crying. This past summer, I was talking to a friend and I while I was recounting a story I used the phrase "I started to sob" (using hand motions and all). He stopped, looked at me and said "Sob? Like really sob? Or were you just welling? Were there even tears? I think you need to work on your vocabulary". Ever since this conversation I have categorized my tears into: welling, tearing, crying, and sobbing. This has really improved my story-telling skills, of which I need little improvement but I guess we can all work on life skills.
On thursday this week, I was at work and having a pretty rough day. There were several moments that I checked my phone waiting for my Mom to call and give me an update on my father's doctors appointment and status of his surgery. My heart would race every time my phone blinked, beeped or someone called. All day - I welled.
I went into exam room 5 at one point in the afternoon and was so deep in thought that I didn't notice who the 2 people in the room were. I set up the computer and was in the middle of wiping down the slit lamp, when the husband looks at me, smiles, and says "hello" in a tone of recognition and familiarity that caught me off guard. I looked at him and was equally caught off guard by who it was, a patient who was from Ethiopia. He and his wife came here to have a surgery done. We met about 3-4 months ago and I talked to them at length about their work - missionaries in their home country.
The husband looked at me and spoke in a manner that I couldn't help but think of Rafiki from the Lion King. He smiled and asked if I had given any more thought to the mission field and I simply replied I have, I'm in it.
We spoke even more briefly about my father and the wife felt urgency to pray, and so, because I am obliging to patients, we prayed. She shut the door, I closed my eyes and she began. As she spoke, welling happened, and then tears and then sobs. The beauty of prayer from someone who feels the spirit and knows Him intimately is one that leaves an impression on the heart. They spoke with the peace, knowledge and wisdom of knowing that a great and powerful God is in control. I listened and surrendered to the fact that I am not.
Sometimes when I am at work, my patients give me hugs before I leave. On Thursday, a day I was upset and discouraged, and on edge I received far more hugs than normal and prayer from a fellow life missionary. God is present, but sometimes I like to think all of my life happenings are coincidental or that I had some say in the way my day panned out. Sometimes I think I have to give name to what is really happening - God is happening all over the place.
1 comment:
beautiful.
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