Ready to Cry

Thoughts, Tears, and a page from my latest book

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Ready to Cry

A friend asked if I could record a video of me reading Ready to Live, a page from my latest book, Getting Through What You’re Going Through.

So I did.

I sat in the parking lot of a Starbucks in Des Moines, Iowa, and hit record.
But something came over me while I was reading, and I caught it on video.

I’m no stranger to big or unexpected feelings.
It’s one of the things that helps me as a writer and speaker.

I used to think it was something to hide, something to change.
Now I know it’s something to embrace and harness, to welcome instead of show the door.

My emotions come like a wave, rising out of nowhere.
Most of the time, my eyes just gloss over, no waterfalls.

Holiday commercials get me every single time.
When my son grabs my hand out of nowhere.
Small, quiet moments on the couch with my wife after a long day.
Anytime I think about Pancake not being here.

Almost every Sunday, it happens.
A wave of emotion falls over me and I get washed away.

Last Sunday at church, while singing How Deep the Father’s Love for Us, I turned and saw a man with a red face and watery eyes. His tears were quiet waterfalls. Mine were misty and full.

It wasn’t the first time I’ve seen him.
He sits in the same seat every Sunday, about ten chairs away on the other side of the aisle.

We’ve never spoken.
We’ve never shaken hands or shared the peace of the Lord.

But we’ve made eye contact.
Two men, tears in our eyes, nodding to each other from ten chairs apart.

There is no shame in crying.

Recently, Judah, our 2.5-year-old, and I have been talking about it a lot.
There are a few things he currently hates: brushing his teeth and putting on clothes.

I get it. They’re not fun.
I don’t wake up thinking, I can’t wait to brush my teeth and get dressed.

It’s always more fun not to brush your teeth.
And when you’re 2.5, you’re not concerned about hygiene, you’re concerned about fun.

Fun is everything.

So we talk about crying.
I tell him it’s good to cry.
I tell him it’s okay to cry.

But I also remind him that there are some things we just have to do, and we don’t have to do them with tears.

Last night, I was watching Alone.
One of the contestants said he had only seen his father cry twice, once when his father died, and once when their dog was struck by a car.

Judah won’t be able to say that about me.

One day, he might say something like,
“My dad was always crying, always moved to emotion.”

And I’m okay with that.

Because maybe he’ll also say that I wasn’t afraid to feel, that I didn’t run from what was happening inside me, that I was fully me in every moment.

That I let joy move me.
That I let grief move me.
That I let love move me.

Because when it comes to living, really living, crying is part of it.

For me, it tells me something matters.
It tells me I’m paying attention.
It tells me I’m still here, still alive.

So if the tears come, let them.

Not because you’re weak, but because you’re here, alive.

Ready to Live 🍊

A writing from my book, Getting Through What You’re Going Through

Something inside me cannot settle. I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’ve been drinking too much coffee and not enough water. Maybe it’s because I look at my phone more than the sky. Maybe it’s because I’m stuck in the past and forget to be in the present.

Some days I feel like nothing’s wrong, but something just isn’t right. Some days I feel like a glass half full, but the wrong glass. Some days I feel like there isn’t much more to the story, but I’m not even halfway through the book.

My head is a loud place that’s always moving. It’s a carnival ride, and I’m sick to my stomach.

When people ask me how I’m doing, I tell them I’m keeping busy. I used to believe that was the right answer, but these days I’m beginning to think it isn’t. Maybe the way things are isn’t the way they’re supposed to be.

The other day I sat in my car before going into the grocery store. I was trying to find the energy and mental space to cross another thing off my to-do list. Sometimes life feels like one long to-do list. I sat in the quiet of my car, but somehow the quiet felt loud.

I watched an elderly man walk out of the grocery store. He loaded up his Jeep Cherokee and pushed his cart to the return spot. Then he gathered a couple of shopping carts scattered around the parking lot. He wasn’t checking his phone or looking for someone to thank him. He just saw what needed to be done and did it. I watched him pick up a piece of trash and throw it away. He smiled at people as they walked out of the store. He waved to a little girl as she held her mother’s hand, and she waved back. He stopped in the middle of what he was doing to watch a flock of birds fly above and away. He pointed to a plane, and the little girl looked up. She said, “Wow!” and they waved goodbye.

I wonder when this man figured it out. I wonder if he ever felt how I feel. I wonder if he sat in his car one day and wondered if there was more to life than crossing things off a to-do list. I wonder if he watched someone older than him put shopping carts away and wave to children and stop to watch the birds fly above and away. I wonder when he decided he was ready to live.

Because I will remember exactly where I was when I decided.

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