This summer has had its challenges. I have been whining a lot to you all lately, so hopefully you can bare with me in a few paragraphs to see what God did with me, when I asked Him to help as He always does, and make use of my sadness.

A Visit to To My Hearts

I flew to visit my oldest son, his wife and our first grandbaby in July. It was the first time I visited since they had moved far away, and my heart was so happy to see them. I went to help with the baby while they traveled for the week and then I was heading straight from this visit to Ohio, to meet my family and see my mom instead of flying back to Tennessee. We had planned a surprise birthday party for my mom, and there was an engagement party and some other family events I hoped to be able to attend. But things were taking a different turn. During the week, my sisters and I had been texting about my mom and it seemed as though she had an infection and would need to be soon requiring hospitalization. I still had yet to say goodbye to my sweet grand baby and that alone was difficult, but knowing my mom was struggling so much was heartache.

One generation up and two generations down, my heart was being pulled and it felt like multi-generational-heartbreak-sandwich as I called Uber to leave my grand baby and head for the airport. It turned out the car was a minute or two away from the house, so my time to fret was shortened and a quick band-aid-rip goodbye to my babe and our friend and I was in the Uber.

As the car pulled away, me waving good-bye from the back seat, holding my breath, the driver said “Whew! You saved me today! You are my miracle!” With that I responded, “And you are mine…” and burst into tears.

A Driver with a Day Job

I had needed to get to a point where I could put my brave face in my pocket for a while, and she had needed an excuse to get back to the city from the suburbs where she could make more money. It was a mutually beneficial moment.

As it seems to always go with an Uber driver, we had a heart-felt conversation. After explaining my breakdown from saying goodbye to my grandbaby and heading toward certain difficulties with my mom, I learned much about her life. Her job working for the state during the week helping people who were less fortunate. She has a 6’5 foot grandson who stays at her house and eats all her groceries, drinking a gallon of milk at a time with his cereal, and more. We too said good-bye, and I marveled at how this hard-working, near-retirement-age-grandmother-of-a-young adult, worked full time job in an energy-sucking bureaucratic job could spend her entire weekend working for extra money, all to afford her tall grandchild as much milk as he could drink. I knew I had more to be grateful for, and less for which to feel sorry for myself about.

Through the terminal, my luggage full of self-pity seemed drag behind me like a little red wagon as I realized I had left my phone charger at the house. I knew I was on a trajectory of tears at the slightest provocation, but I had to deal with what my mom calls “earthly gifts.” These are things that keep you from being able to “woe is me” too much when things feel heavy. So I asked the Lord (not for the first time that week) to help me just be a big girl and stop crying and have hope. That He could take my offering of sadness and do with it what He willed. As it goes, I had a nice conversation with the woman who helped me find the right charger for my circumstances and even that wasn’t wasted.

“Play it again, Sam”

Finally in a place where i could rest and think at the airport, I ordered a drink and charged my phone, taking out my notebook to draw and write. The feelings and thoughts came raining down and i found myself crying in my cocktail like a sad old maid over her ale the Red Lion (binging Poldark lately.)

Joining our tears

The server came by to check on me. She saw my tears (although I tried to hide my face in embarrassment) and she said quietly “I am sorry, ma’am.” I smiled an (ugly cry) smile and said “I am ok. Thank you.” Feeling embarrassed and inwardly yelling at myself to cut it out, she revisited me a few times, checking on me. Bringing me napkins, and her hand on my shoulder.

Soon I pulled myself together again to look into her eyes and see a soul. I put myself aside for a moment (I deserve a cookie) and noticed she too, had tears. She proceeded to tell me about her husband losing his job, and now she has to work and cannot be with her baby who is cared for by someone else. This broke her heart. I told her I would pray for her husband to find a new job. Before I parted we wished each other well while we held hands briefly.

Fast forward to getting back home after a long week I spent in the hospital that my mom had entered the day before her birthday. We cancelled the party, and I missed the other family events we had originally planned to be at together, but I knew this was where I was supposed to be. It was a difficult month. It took a long time and much heartache to get mom to a better place and stabilized, and we are so grateful for that.

The ways God chose to use my tiny little teary offerings amazed me. It kept going on that when I caught myself welling up again in public or caught unawares by some sentimental anything, the dam was broken and the tears just kept coming because the ache wouldn’t leave my heart. But my prayer was the same and He used it all. Even for Lily.

The Wilting Lily

About a few days after being back at home, I went to buy dog food. That’s where I met Lily. I had been in line and when it was finally my turn, just as I stepped up to the register, a new clerk was changing places with the previous one. Lily stepped up to give her co-worker a break and looked at me with a forced smile, red brimming eyes, and obvious pain behind it all, whispering a forced “hi.”

Making a mental note of her name tag, I said, “Oh sweety, are you ok?” Lily’s eyes brimmed over and she painfully kept trying to pull it together and said “No, not really.” She went on to tell me quietly that she never cries, and this was just not like her at all. I asked Lily if she wanted a hug. A perfect stranger hug. She said yes. We hugged, in the middle of the pet store, and I assured her (with my own tears feeling her pain) that it would be better. That I would pray if that was ok, and that although I don’t know what she is dealing with, God does and He cares. And I care too.

My Tears Are Stored in Your Flask

My wanderings you have noted; are my tears not stored in your flask, recorded in your book? Ps 56:9

Sometimes the best thing we can do for someone is to really see them. In my own self-pity I was seeing myself only. I finally prayed that God would turn my lenses around and look for those who were also hurting. We don’t have to look far. There is a hurting soul around every corner. And I don’t have to fix it all, but rather invite Him into the situation. I just need to remember to ask, and thank Him for that, and remember how He takes the pain I have and uses it for something better.