Jesus and Crocodile Tears

Little Theo usually goes to bed without a peep. I think he is so incredibly active all day that he finally just crashes. Tonight was an exception. He whined, he kicked, he screeched. Then he stood in the corner of his crib, facing the door, and howled while big crocodile tears ran down his face. Typically I just let him cry until he falls asleep. But tonight I gave in.

I open the door and, he squints at me when the light hits his face – cheeks red, eyes swollen. He throws his arms around my neck and I grab his blanket, heading to sit in the rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom. I open the blinds slightly, and he rests his head on my chest while we both watch the big, fat snowflakes fall outside in the light of the moon.

I pull the blanket around him and begin to hum. He is asleep in minutes, breathing steadily, heavy weight in my arms. I could put him right back in his crib, but I linger. Watching the snow fall, the soft light coming from the Mickey-Mouse night light, and the rare snuggles are just too good to miss.

My humming wanders from hymn to hymn, and my mind wanders too. I think of my dear friend who serves in the National Guard and flies out for Afghanistan tomorrow. I think of another dear friend whom I grew into adulthood with, who might be one of the strongest people I know, but also now has the challenge of being a single mom. I think of my dear sister and the time we got to spend together for the holidays – and I think of her husband who stayed in another city on the way home to be by the side of one of his dying parishioners. I think of another dear friend who adamantly denies Christ, and who can only associate “Christians” with the people who beat her within an inch of her life when she was a child. I think about all those things one only gets to think about in those brief, rare, moments of quiet reflection that are usually stolen away by the constant movement of life.

Lord, grant me more moments like these.

My heart is heavy for so many people in my life, some are close and some far away, some I know well and some I don’t know at all, some are in Christ but many are not. This is not something I ever experienced before I encountered Jesus. Back then, I could care about people, but only to a certain extent. With any care was also that underlying fear that I could get hurt by caring…and that fear always won out. I may have cared, but I suffered from a total lack of the kind of depth which makes you take action when you really care. Jesus has changed that for me, he has opened my heart and shown me how. Jesus wept. (John 11:35)

Softly, tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me

Softly, tenderly Jesus is calling, calling oh sinner come home

Come home, come home….ye who are weary come home

Little Theo stirs, yawning. My shirt is wet from his tears. As the snow gathers outside, I have some crocodile tears of my own. I am not sad without hope, but I know that it is right to be sad over what is sad. There is much in life which is not how God intended it. There are many problems in life that I cannot solve, but can only point to the Savior. Thank you Jesus, for showing me that it is right to care about people, to love people, to be sad over sin, to grieve for people, to go all the way there with people. Because they are YOUR people, and I know you are softly calling for them too.