Sowing, Reaping

“When the Lord brought back the captive ones of Zion,
We were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter
And our tongue with joyful shouting;
Then they said among the nations,
‘The LORD has done great things for them.’
The LORD has done great things for us;
We are glad.
Restore our captivity, O LORD,
As the streams in the South.
Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting” (Psalm 126:1-5).

I cry all the time. When a man was rude to me in Starbucks last month and told me to move my van because I was blocking him in, I cried. When I hurt a friend’s feelings a few days ago, I cried several times. I cried four different times while watching “Enchanted” on a date with my husband.

Cry, cry, cry.

Sometimes I cry on phone meetings with John. (Bless his heart- what a fantastic small groups Pastor to serve under. He’s always really nice about it, too.). And, of course, I cry all the time with Hugh.

It used to worry him, I think. “Oh, no! You’re crying… Are you o-kay?” Hugh would ask kindly.

But now he is used to my tears. And, for the most part, so I am.

Last night, though, I really cried. I put my red blanket around me on the couch and started sobbing into my old pillow. I kept crying, getting louder and louder in all my vulnerable glory, until Hugh came out from our room and found me in a ball with puffy eyes and a runny nose.

He asked me if I wanted him to hold me. I said I wanted him to only touch one foot, which I poked out of the blanket as I continued to sob.

I cried for over an hour before I was able to tell him why I was so upset. Then, with quieter sobs, I told Hugh I have been praying through some really hard memories this week from my childhood and asking God to show me the areas where I am hurting.

This is not my idea of a good time. I would rather write a funny post about why I want an iPhone, or go out for coffee with a friend, or read to my children.

I really, really, really, really don’t want to be doing this at all. I don’t want to cry about this stuff. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to feel. I wonder if it would be easier to ignore it all again for the next thirty years.

But then I remember my children. I think about the hopes I have for them. I reflect on the example I want to be for them as a mother and as a follower of Christ. I want them to see that we obey God even when it’s hard because we can trust Him to sustain and strengthen us for what He calls us to do.

I want this to be my legacy. Maybe it will be a legacy sowed in tears, but I will reap with joyful shouting, saying “the Lord has done great things for me”.

This morning I read Ephesians 1:18, which says that “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened so you may know what is the hope of His calling, what are the glorious riches of His inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of His power to us who believe, according to the working of His vast strength.”

As I read this, my heart lightened as I once again realized that Christ is in complete control, even when my emotions are all over the place. That I can rest, even while crying, in His hope. I have an inheritance in Him, and He fills me daily with glorious riches.

I may cry again tonight – I’m still in the middle of this season. But I was reminded this morning that I can put my hope in His Word even when I’m in a ball under the blanket.

One day I will get up, dry my eyes forever, and stand triumphantly with a heart fully healed. Until that day comes, though, I’ll continue to keep my eyes fixed on the One who is daily filling me with strength and power for the journey.