Tears of Sorrow, Tears of Joy, and Just Plain Fun
In mid-March, I flew to Atlanta to attend the memorial service of some dear friends’ daughter who died after years of addiction and many other problems. The trip was filled with emotional extremes.
I was greatly honored that the family asked me to welcome people to the service and offer the opening prayer. A few days before the service, I happened to be in the church office at the same time as the mom. She teared up on seeing me and expressed sincere appreciation for my presence.
As the service began, I could only get a few words out before I choked up. One of the band members didn’t realize I was overcome with emotion and thought I had merely lost my place in my notes.
Obviously, the sadness of the day had a lot to do with my inability to speak, but I think it also reflected the recent collective weight of other people’s burdens I was sharing: an executive facing job loss for the second time in two years; two friends going through divorces; a man in his 40s who just learned he needed a third major back surgery, this time to fuse nine (!) vertebra; an amazing cyclist who has been completely sidelined by long Covid; friends at church recovering from a major leadership disruption; and many other challenges my social media friends were facing. The cumulative weight of these problems got to me and caused me to lose my composure.
But there were also tears of joy. I had a delightful two-hour Starbucks meeting with Chris, my Job-like friend (see my August 11, 2023 post) in which we both got emotional. He told me about a recent conversation his son had with his girlfriend who had been going through some rough times. His son told her that he believed in her and was on her side. This was super-meaningful to Chris because that’s exactly what he has been telling both his sons, and he was delighted his son had internalized that truth to the point of passing it along.
Chris told me that story because that message of encouragement was a breakthrough moment for him early in our relationship. I had recognized that he had never in his entire life heard that level of affirmation from anyone, and I wanted him to know that at least one person – me – saw the deep goodness in his heart. Watching Chris’ lips quiver as he told me his son’s story humbled me to the point that my own eyes got misty.
The night before I returned to California, my best friend, his teenaged son, and I met for dinner at Chili’s. Their family has experienced an extended time of great stress. I don’t remember how this came up, but my friend turned to his son and asked him, “If you had to tell one of your friends what your dad is like using only one description, what would that be?” After thinking a moment, the son said, “I know you’re always there for me.” That was precisely what his dad wanted to hear. What a joy to watch him hug his son’s neck for nearly a minute and then grab a napkin to wipe his eyes.
So, yes, this trip was characterized by tears both of sorrow and of joy.
Beyond the emotional extremes, it was also filled with just plain fun:
Catching up with several other dear friends
Sharing Mellow Mushroom pizzas with our Bible Study friends with whom we have “done life” for 19 years
Playing a goofy card game with the family I was staying with – The picture accompanying this post is of Douglas, their affectionate hairless cat. That cat is a hoot!
Recording a podcast discussing my healthcare book (https://youtu.be/SxjbyZPt01g?si=cFMM5CwrDzw4cotT)
Cycling on my beloved Silver Comet Trail
I was blessed by this trip in two ways:
First, by seeing how favorable my circumstances are compared to the heartbreak others are experiencing. I have nothing to complain about!
Secondly, by recognizing how privileged I am to have so many close friends who, depending on their circumstance, have invited me to rejoice or weep with them as Romans 12:15 says.
I share all this as testimony of God’s goodness to me.
