Anywhere people are, pain is there too.

Somehow it is surprise, this reality.  The notion is that if we buy the right products, have clean fingernails, and refrain from making unfriendly hand gestures at other drivers (or whatever your personal list of coloring-inside-the-lines good is) pain will forget our name.

It doesn’t.

I have been blessed with real conversations this week with people who are willing to name their pain.

It is no small thing, this sharing.  When we allow others to hear our hearts and our hurts, we’re gracing them with our trust that they will hear our hearts without taking over, and that they will breathe with us and bear witness to the fierce hurts that mark our souls.

Maybe one of the greatest gifts we can give each other is the midwifing of tears.  They are a birthing of sorts, are tears.  They let us know the places of broken within us and around us.  They testify to the alive thing that is our heart.  They well from the juice of our being and sometimes they must have their speak.

On this day, I feel a call to pay homage to those whose tears fall.  Bless you for your courage.  Thank you for your trust.

The water you release is part of the human that you are and oh, you are not alone.

The Holy is.  Your fine soul is.  Your community is.

Loss is.