lachrymatory

“Thou has taken account of my wanderings; put my tears in Thy bottle, are they not in Thy book?" Psalm 56: 8

“There is an appointed time for everything…a time to weep, a time to laugh…” Eccl 3:1,4

“And when he approached, he saw the city and wept over it…” Luke 19:41

“Jesus wept.” John 11:35

In Roman times, mourners would collect their tears in a small bottle, placing it in the tomb to show the degree of grief and respect for the loved one. In the Victorian period, tears were collected in bottles with stoppers that allowed gradual evaporation; when the tears were gone, the period of mourning was complete. During the American Civil War, wives would save their tears to show their husbands upon return just how much they had been missed.

Almost twenty years ago, now; our younger daughter was eight; she and I were watching some lost dog movie or similar ilk when, noticing my manly reaction, she asked, “Why do we cry?” My immediate response was to remind her that when things are sad or sometimes even very happy that crying is a natural reaction; but, she clarified, “No, I mean why do we make tears when we feel that way?” In my then-twenty-two years as a professional student of human behavior, I realized that I didn’t know. So, off I went to the medical library (remember, this was pre-web, ante-Google) only to find that there had been just three papers written on the topic, none definitive. The one that stood out was a study where “easy criers” were first asked to peel an onion during which their tears were collected in a bottle, then later were asked to watch a sad movie (“Brian’s Song”, as I recall) with similar tear collection. Upon examining the chemical makeup it was found that the tears produced by emotional reaction had a quite different composition than those caused by local irritation, with a greater abundance of byproducts from the same neurotransmitters that we know are involved in the workings of those parts of the brain that God has designed to process our emotions. The investigators’ conclusion: tears are a breach in the levee, a floodgate designed to let out the excess when a cascade of emotions occur.

It has been a hard few weeks. I have found myself suddenly tearing up, on occasion spontaneously sobbing, usually only for a few moments, with no obvious provocation at that particular time. But there are obvious contributors…

I miss my wife. As Karen continues to lose cognitive ground, I have known what the eventual implications of that will be unless God intervenes miraculously (for which I still pray). But I caught myself looking at her a few days ago, and thinking, “my wife is disappearing”, literally. This woman who nine years ago wrote a publishable paper on (of all things) “A Biblical Approach for Caregivers of Family Members with Dementia” can now no longer spell even simple words. She initiates no conversation, has no ability to think abstractly and thus has no real sense of humor, has no intellectual knowledge of or interest in any current event. Her hands and shoulders are losing muscle mass and she appears to be wasting away (probably in part due to the thyroid issue, but that is under better control and her weight is stable). She recognizes family members only; all others are new faces each time encountered. There is no discussion of how things were because there is no memory thereof. Truth be told, the woman I married exited some time ago; the child who occupies her body has different tastes (literally; she now eats things she used to detest) and a different demeanor. The reality that my wife is disappearing, has already disappeared, has been so very much more evident recently. I miss my wife. This makes me sad.

I miss my dad. Until his death this past Thanksgiving I had grown so accustomed to trying to adapt to the idiosyncrancies of his old age that I had started seeing him as an old man and less as the still-vigorous, humorous, active 98 year old role model that so many others had treasured over the years. Now, I just wish I could call him and chat. I miss my dad. This makes me sad.

I miss feeling competent. These last few years have left me in awe of wives and mothers and working single parents; I don’t know how they do it. It’s not just that I have no control over Karen’s medical decline. There simply are not enough hours in the day to take care of self and someone else and home and life. And, whether at my prison job two mornings each week or from the many communications I still receive from missionaries and others around the globe, I hear overwhelming stories of need and pain and inequity and illness, none to which I have time, opportunity, or capability to respond. The world is not well, and it seems that there is more pain, more poverty, more polemic, more polarization, less peace, and a paucity of compassion. And it also seems that there is less and less I can do about it. This makes me sad.

“Jesus wept.” Shortest verse in the Bible, but even more interesting in the context: Jesus weeping at the reality of the loss of Lazarus, even as he knows that he is to soon call him back from the tomb. The joy of the near reunion was not enough to stem the sadness of the loss. This is a Savior who understands me, this is a brother in whom I can believe. He can weep even when he knows the sadness will eventually turn to victorious joy. And Jesus, who had already wept for a lost Jerusalem, would soon weep again, to the point of hematidrosis (look it up) in the Garden of Gethsemane.

I know that whatever the outcome of Karen’s condition, she will again have a vibrancy that will make her past best days pale in comparison. I know that my father is already celebrating with my mom, and that I will eventually have opportunity to spend time getting to know him in ways never before possible. And I know that though the wrongs seem oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.

But the joy of certain restoration does not impede the tears. The levees are at crest these days. Perhaps God does hold all these in His bottle that in days to come I might see and remember. For then, only tears collected from the past will be available: “He will swallow up death for all time, and the Lord God will wipe tears away from all faces…”

Karen will be entering the “open label” phase of the drug study in April, where she will definitely be getting the active drug. We don’t know what to expect out of that, whether miraculous change, adverse reaction, or no effect at all. Also in April we are going to have to find a way to accomplish a colonoscopy with all the preparation that such a test entails, no pun intended; that process is hard enough when one can remember the directions and purpose of the discomfort. I hope to finalize the paperwork of closing out my dad’s estate in this next month. Prayers for these next steps are much appreciated.

Thanks for standing by us, even in a time of my own personal lament.

God is still good. All the time.

It is always an encouragement to hear from you. Comments or questions: barneydavis@gmail.com, or message me on facebook @ Barney Davis