When we’re sad or depressed, we like it when the weather agrees. Rain and rustic skies assist the spirit within to feel at home.
Mary’s husband died in a workplace accident. But there was no escape into her grief with her young children around. She’d wait until their eyes gave way to dreams, then slowly let the pain out — tears long borne on a weary, torn heart. Some sprinkling solace at last. God becomes real in these moments.
Sadness is nothing to feel sad about when we know there are others out there, too, beckoning gloomy days.
Tears must come in such sadness; that or anger for being cheated of cherished moments alone with the Spirit of our hearts.
We’re warned. Reject the need to spill our sullenness and soon there’s anger — the cheapening of emotion; damage abounding.
Find a safe place and let the pain out. Trust authenticity. It’s all we have. It’s all we need.
© 2011 S. J. Wickham.
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