The Weeping Princess

Who decided that big girls don't cry? 

The day after my diagnosis I had an appointment to get a biopsy. It's hard to describe all of the emotion I was experiencing, but overwhelmed comes close. As I followed my nurse to the locker and took a hospital gown from her hands, I felt a swell of emotion. Uh oh. My "cup runneth over," just not exactly with joy. Tears began to fall- not loud, uncontrollable sobbing, but a silent, steady waterfall down my cheeks. I call it "leaking,"and it is tough to stop!

Apparently, this caused quite a bit of distress for everyone that still had to interact with me. I kept assuring them that this was normal, I was fine, but to no avail. They had a goal and were pursing it with a single-minded tenacity: "stop that leak!"...perhaps for their own comfort more than mine. The intake nurse insisted on getting Jonathan. That didn't help. Jonathan and I just laughed through my tears, knowing they weren't going to stop anytime soon. Tears flowed a little harder when I discovered I would be awake for the biopsy, which I imagined to be a huge needle plunging deep into my chest (and it was). Next came my favorite part. A bouncy IV nurse- I think she literally bounded throughout the hospital- landed two inches from my face and in her sweet, Asian accent exclaimed, "OH! You are the Weeping Princess!" It made me smile. "I suppose I am," was my reply. The title, which I proudly accepted, made her unique approach to starting an IV somewhat tolerable. I'm pretty sure I saw her hop as she inserted the needle. I continued to "leak" as they wheeled me to my doctor, crying harder when I saw that he looked like an eighteen year old. The supervising doctor only needed a moment to meet me, assess the situation, and decide to order "happy drugs" for relaxation. Thank you, Jesus. Soon after the drug was administered I was cracking jokes and watching the biopsy with intrigue. I guess they found a way to plug that leak, after all. 

But it got me thinking, what's the big deal with tears, anyway? Those little drops caused a room full of well-trained professionals to scurry away in fear. Didn't Jesus weep when he found out his friend Lazarus had died? The crazy part is that Jesus already knew he could and would raise Lazarus from the dead! Why waste time on tears when he knew how the story would end? It sure sends a message for those who are hurting, even those of us that know God will someday dry all of our tears and make everything right. 

I think Jesus is trying to validate our emotions, saying that it's good to grieve: let it out! Yeah, we have hope. We know "God is good all the time, all the time God is good", but it's ok to cry right now because it hurts right now, and that matters to Him. There is something about expressed sorrow that even Jesus didn't choose to avoid. No clever rationalizations, exhausting distractions, or confusing denial. He embraced and expressed his experience of human emotion, so I guess I can too. 

I like what Dr. James Gills says in his book, God's Prescription for Healing. He compares crying to sneezing. Crying is another one of God's brilliant, built-in cathartic responses for healing. Sneezing expells unwanted invaders from our bodies so that makes crying the "big sneeze" for our emotions. It's like a reset button.  "Better out than in, I always say," to quote Shrek. I think that's why being tagged the Weeping Princess felt like an honor. I often tell my clients that it can take more courage to express our feelings than distract ourselves from them. Keeping a stiff upper lip is necessary in some situations, but it's not really my M.O. and I like it that way. I've been able to cry when I needed to cry, which has allowed me to experience joy, and laughter, and peace most of the time. I don't need to waste energy ignoring painful feelings because I have a Savior that says I am strong enough to handle them. Want to know the best part? When I'm not strong enough, he promises to meet me there. So far, Jesus has made good on that promise. 

I've recently been presented with many opportunities to admit my weakness. The challenge of last week was my port placement. I actually did ok through the procedure, far less "leaking" than the biopsy a few weeks prior. It is a bit disconcerting, however, to see this alien bubble under my skin, and it will take some getting used to. So I guess you can pray that I will make friends with this port. Some have recommended that I name it, which seems like a good next step. I'm taking suggestions! 

Chemo starts Thursday. I am looking forward to visits from friends on "chemo Thursdays" and will let you know how the first one goes. I predict some more appearances from the Weeping Princess- hold the kleenex, please- but also look forward to greater intimacy with Jesus and the people I love. 

In case you need a big emotional sneeze today, I'm sharing a link to this song by Jon Thurlow: 

My Little One