Close to the brokenhearted

I went to church on Sunday. I wanted to go but couldn't believe the guts it took for me to actually walk through the door. I don't know why. I love our church. Perhaps it is because it is such a normal part of our lives and everything normal does seem so unusual right now. I sat outside in my car and watched people walk in for probably 15 minutes. Finally, I walked in on the last song. As soon as I walked in I burst into tears. I couldn't sing, just cry. I'd like to say I paid very close attention to the sermon and left with some deep truth that will carry me through these days. But all I can say is that I was there and that it was good for me to sit in the back and cry.

I think about all the things I guilt myself into doing. About all my thoughts of what will bring me closer to God. I should pray more, read my bible more, be more this or that. These days are so different. I can't corral myself into any of that by the pressure to perform I normally use to function. I hear, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted" and I know it to be true. I have done nothing and still he is near me. How little I have to do with his love. I am broken and cry every day, I get angry, I am distant and cold but I know with a certainty that must be a gift (because I keep questioning why in the world I would keep feeling it) that God is close to my broken heart.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief - and unspeakable love.
Washington Irving