Remembering How to Cry

I was helping out today in the nursery at church, playing with Abby, one of the cutest little girls. She's a little more than a year old, and although she's quite young, my mom has been telling me that she's one of the more independent babies. While most of the babies in the nursery tend to cry and need constant attention, Abby is fine on her own, playing by herself.

Until till today that is.

I was sitting there holding her (as I had been for the past nearly 20 minutes) today, when suddenly out of nowhere she starts crying. At first we thought it was because she needed to changer her diaper, or she was hungry or something. However the real reason was quite simple; she was tired and wanted her mom.

After holding her for a while and trying to calm her down, she eventually went to sleep, which is where she stayed until the end of the service.

Abby reminded me of something very important today. She reminded me that I need to remember how to cry. We all do. It's strange that we start out as needy children, crying about every little thing, and knowing that our parents will respond to us. Yet somehow as we grow older it becomes more difficult for us to cry, and when we do, you know your in for a big flood. We start to feel as though crying is something we aren't supposed to do. That we've learned enough about grief and pain that we should be experts at how to react and recover. But it's such a lie to ourselves.

In Matthew, Jesus is approached by his disciples, who ask the question of who will enter the kingdom of God.

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. " - Matthew 18:1-4

Jesus tells them to be like children, like Abby, in order to do so. He doesn't tell us to be the most independent, the strongest emotionally or physically. He doesn't tell us to have the most money, or be the smartest. Instead he tells us to be vulnerable, needy, physically weak, lacking money or intelligence.

As I was trying to calm Abby down today, it struck me that the sound of her cry wasn't just a noise. There was passion, emotion, complete trust, and vulnerability in her cry. She was crying out for her mother, the one person she knew who would never leave her. And when her mom didn't come, she kept crying and crying and crying. She had no doubt that eventually her cries would be heard, she had completely faith that her mom would come.

And it was that sound of her cry that shook me and put tears in my eyes. To be able to cry out to God, my Father who will never leave me. To not be afraid to let myself wail, to scream out my brokenness to someone who understands better than anyone else. And to know that my cries will be heard and that someone will come to my aid.

I was reminded today that its more than okay to cry. In fact God welcomes it, because he knows that when we cry it means we have nowhere to turn but him. And its funny how it took a child, who doesn't even know the impact of her tears, to teach me such a humbling lesson.