I have come to realize (only because I've said it out loud today a couple of times) that I might have vulnerability issues. I only say that because I hate to cry in front of people. Which is bad, because I also have a rule that no one cries alone in my presence. (Okay, actually that's Adrienne's rule, but I'm sure she won't mind if I borrow it.) For those who actually read these, that does not mean that I don't cry. If you read these at all you know i do, but usually I'm sitting in a room alone, in front of a computer monitor, with a box of tissues sitting next to me on the couch. Today, that was not the case. I used up my daily allotment of tears well before noon, not a kleenex in sight. I think it's because I'm good at compartmentalizing my life, and as such my emotions.

I'm in nursing school, I work, I have a family, I have friends, I lead worship. While all of those areas are distinctly me, there is some natural separation that happens. I have friends at school that I don't see anywhere else. I have friends at work that I only see at work. I have friends from high school, college, adulthood -- some peripheral, some close, some really close. The latter is the group I *might* cry in front of IF there was no other way around it. Do those friends know I cry? Well, they know I'm human, so I'm guessing they can come to that conclusion on their own if they so choose. (Alright, yes, they know...)

Does it mean I have trust issues if I refuse to let other people see me cry? I don't think so. I think it just means that no one likes to be exposed for all the world to see. There are some parts of life where tears are expected -- where it's socially acceptable to show emotion. Weddings and funerals, for example. But we're taught early on that we shouldn't cry over "spilled milk" and other seemingly trivial events in life. It's subjective, I guess. What seems trivial to one person, might be "life or death" to another. So my tear-worthy events, might seem trivial to you, but to me -- in "that" moment, they're huge.

Then it occurred to me that maybe there's a stigma with tears, because of the power they possess. Think about this. A family that never touches, never shows outward affections to one another -- the tears of one member of that family, brings about hugs and support from the others. Tears can also bring a grown man to his knees. I hear a song in a concert that makes my eyes water, or my lower lip quiver -- and I begin to bite my tongue or think about my grocery list. I check-out of the situation that brings on the tears and I place them on hold. Not only is it uncomfortable for me to cry in front of others, there's the discomfort of those witnessing another's act of vulnerability.

So, then I start thinking about a conversation Caity and I had in the car earlier about the human heart. It's a muscle. It's powerful. It's vulnerable. If it is damaged, there is zero chance of new muscle tissue growth. Damaged heart muscle is replaced with scar tissue. Scar tissue is more rigid and not nearly as flexible as muscle. If enough of the heart is damaged, it can't do it's job effectively or efficiently. That's the physicality of it. The metaphoric side is that a "broken" heart can heal, but not without acknowledging the hurt, allowing yourself the time to work through the emotions, and I dare say tears.

And like a ton of bricks, it hits me. I'm not hiding my tears because I'm ashamed of them. I'm guarding my heart because it's fragile, and fragile things are sure to break if stretched beyond their capacity. My eyes really are the window to my soul. They tell of my true feelings and give people access to a much deeper connection with me. Allowing someone to look into your eyes is an intimate experience that can either make you feel known and accepted or uncomfortable and invaded. And if tears are flowing from those eyes, it's like a magnifying glass -- straight to your heart. Silly, maybe. Human, most definitely.

~s