Crying Jesus' Tears

I was listening to KTIS radio on my way to work last week and less than a hundred yards from the parking lot, the station took a call from a woman who was asking for prayer. She didn't specify why, but the more she talked, the more she cried. By the time I was turning in the parking lot, she had totally lost it. As had I.

I couldn't explain why, but by the time I parked I was crying like a baby. Not a man's hidden, sheepish tears like I occasionally do at tearjerker movies. I was blubbering. I even called Minda thinking she could help me calm down before I went in to work. By the time she answered, I had settled a bit and we talked and laughed a little, then I went to work with that wonderful feeling of clean eyes that tears always bring.

It was a week later that I made the connection to that crying jag and the message I feel God has been whispering to me of late: Live in the moment. Like a child. No regrets about yesterday or ten minutes ago, no worries about tomorrow or later this afternoon. Live in the moment.

I wake every morning desperate to smell the fresh morning air--I call it God's morning breath. And it is that moment that I remind myself that God is in charge of my life. Yesterday I watched the clouds roll across the sky--something I haven't done in decades!--and thanked God for the moment of quiet connection to Him. I believe the crying fit of last week was a moment of connection to another child of God's pain. And for a moment I felt that pain. And Jesus in me wept.

Thank you Father God, for the monents of my life.