The Value of Tears

This simple quote drove me back some 57 years, to a hot summer's night in the middle of 40 acres of pasture that had a creek running through it.

"Stop acting like everything is fine if it isn’t. – It’s okay to fall apart for a little while.  You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, and there is no need to constantly prove that everything is going well.  You shouldn’t be concerned with what other people are thinking either – cry if you need to – it’s healthy to shed your tears.  The sooner you do, the sooner you will be able to smile again." ~marcandangel.com 30 Things to Stop Doing to Yourself

One of my sisters, felt the need to allow everything to be okay. It didn’t matter what she was going through, she was “fine." I knew she wasn’t, but that’s all I could ever get out of her. “I’m fine.” I wish she would have shared her pain, her troubles, and her challenges, with me.

The only time I can remember seeing her cry, was when we were children. One of the many chores we shared was milking cows. We had 20 (or more) Holstein cows at the time. Milking machines had not been invented yet. WE were the machines. After all the cows had been milked and the milk had been poured into 10 gallon cans, they had to then be loaded onto the back of our flat bed truck and hauled to our barn where the cooler was. This particular pasture was one we rented during the winter months, instead of using our own. Hoisting those cans up to the truck bed was no easy feat. Neither was it easy getting them into the cooler that was partially filled with cold water to keep the milk from spoiling. Dad usually did most of the lifting, since we were just scrawny kids. I’m sure he was not only trying to save our backs from damage (and legs from getting scraped up), but was a bit concerned about us hitting the ledge of those platforms and causing the milk can lids to jar loose. That would mean the possibility of loosing all the milk we’d just extracted from those cows. And that was part of what put food on our table.

That particular day, I saw Becky cry, and it was over something that wasn’t even her fault. Let me prelude this by saying, I can’t imagine how my mom and dad successful raised 10 kids. No parent is perfect. No parent is without mistakes. We love our children, but life throws us curves and while in the moment, we let words fly from our mouths that shouldn’t. The words have no baring, no justification. Words that are spoken out of frustration or sheer exhaustion become damning words.

My brother Rush was finishing up inside the barn. The last cow was a cantankerous one and had to have “kickers” put around the back two legs. Kickers were metal cuffs with a chain that attached the two. If we allowed the cow freedom from these, she would with certainty, put her hoof in our milk pail and spill the results of all our hard work, out onto the barn floor. What made this so valuable was the care each animal needed throughout the year. It was not cheap. Not only did they need attended to all year with feed & water, but also shelter and the occasional home vet visit. They would need warbles extracted (by us), calves pulled or rotated while the momma's gave birth, babies taught how to drink from a bucket, hay thrown out to feed on, grain for morning & evening feedings, driven to different watering holes, moved from pasture to pasture for new fodder, and barns kept up for harvest time and milking…their milk was a precious commodity.

On the day Becky cried, she and I, were on the back of the truck waiting for Dad and Rush to throw up the milk cans. We would grab them and roll them to the front of the truck, by hanging onto the lids. One particular lid was not on securely. It was one that Becky grabbed. Injustice seems to hang in our minds when we see it executed.

We were rushed that day. Things had not gone well with the milking. Cows were not cooperative and we were all exhausted. Dad was dealing with the need to get back home for some food because his insulin levels were getting out of control. That meant passing out after intense aggravation, or simply going into shock. He was a diabetic.

Becky must have been around 14 years old, me only 10. She always protected me and tried to keep me from having to do the hard labor that she and all the rest of my siblings had been accustomed to. We lived on a farm. It was our livelihood. That night, she knew Dad needed to get home and to make that happen soon, she told me to stand out of the way. She was much faster than me. She grabbed one milk can after the other and rolled it with exceeding speed to the front of the truck, in order to get back for the next one thrown up. Then came the loose lidded one. As she grabbed the can and began the roll, it came off. And the yelling began.

We just couldn't afford to lose that milk, and all of a sudden, it was in Becky's hands. To make matters worse, remember the cantankerous cow? Rush let her out without removing the kickers that kept her back legs hobbled. Out of the barn she comes and heads straight for the creek that separated the two pastures. Her back legs would become raw and split if the kickers weren't removed. The milk had been spilt, the accusing words had been thrown out, and now Becky was supposed to jump off the truck and chase the cow into the water to get her free from the chains that bound her legs. It all happened so fast, and Becky was one that sprang into action when the need arose.

She cried that day. Mostly out of anger, I think...then hurt, but I can't remember it lasting very long. Mom was so mad at Dad. But he was dealing with uncontrollable blood sugar levels. I'm not excusing him, I'm just saying there are times we as parents, have health issues that seem to interrupt our normal actions. Dad loved his "boys and girls", as he called us. We all had endearing nicknames. He just had an extremely hard life. And that's another story.

Maybe there were other days Becky cried. I just can't remember ever seeing her do so. I do remember her telling me though, "Don't ever ask God to take away your tears. I did, and now I can't cry." She dealt with life with head up, chin out. Never in an aggressive way, just in a realistic way. Challenges didn't phase her. Troubles were created for solutions. Value was given to those that created it. She had unmatched speed and strength (well, maybe her son, Rusty is an exception). No one could beat her at any game, any work task, any challenge. 

Let me say there is a fine line between allowing tears to fall, and not. It's true, we should try to control emotions. Yet there are times we need to get away from everything…and cry. I don't know that anyone knows for certain (other than the One who created them), the reason tears exist. But some say tears were created to flush the excess salt from our body, which in turn releases built up energy with feelings, stressful feelings. They are life giving. Have you ever noticed after a good cry, how much better you feel? The thing you were crying about, hasn't miraculously dissolved, but now you can face it just a little better maybe. Emotional pain actually has access to a commodity that heals itself. BUT…if we subscribe to crying over every little thing, it will have the opposite effect. Our strength is depleted and we become needy with no fortitude, no determination, no victory. Please understand that I speak only from my own experiences…not claiming this to be the answer for all emotional pain. And we cry for different reasons. The really great thing about the reasons we cry, is, according to Scripture, God keeps a record of all our pain…we don't need to!  "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." Psalm 56:8(NLT)

I don't know if Becky crossed that line, or not. I only know her sacrifices instilled strength in me. She surely has been rewarded and suffers no more…and one day we'll be together once again. 

Until that day, here…you'll find me, in Mary's World.