Tears and blessings...

I am so grateful that I learned how to cry - not in that John Boehner-crocodile tears way - but from deep in my soul.  Over the past 5 days I've spontaneously broken into tears reading some of the all too short biographies of the children massacred in Sandy Hook, CT.  When I see pictures of my own daughters - or read a passage of Scripture - the tears start to flow, too. And being with my confirmation kids last night as we worked on the gospel song, "Soon and Very Soon" found me with tears rolling down my face. (I didn't want to embarrass them so they were quickly wiped away.)

These tears are a blessing - a sign that I am still alive and connected to the holy - even though all around me things seem to be falling a part.  My tears hurt right now - I had a ragged and rough crying jag on Sunday night after the President spoke - but they are supposed to be painful.  Like a vet said to me about his PTSD nightmares, I don't try to get rid of them because they help me remember...

On my way home from a meeting I found I was finally inspired to get a Christmas tree. Life has been too full - and sometimes heart-breaking - to consider doing this before today.  Today I realized that my tears are a gift during which my body is at prayer.  There are more tears to come, I know. Today I return thanks knowing that even the sorrow is a blessing...

Here's a crucial piece of the recent puzzle that deserves deeper reflection:  the connection between white male models of masculinity, fear and guns.  Check it out @ http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jackson-katz/men-gender-gun-violence_b_2308522.html?utm_hp_ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false