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Tears

I couldn't seem to find any flowers that would express my regret. Even the orchids appeared a bit too old and the spring bouquets lacked freshness, so I guess my sympathy card would have to do. It would probably be alright, it did express what I wanted most to convey, my care and the comfort of a loving God. I walked into the dry cleaners, just like I do every Wednesday afternoon. She usually meets me at the door, but today she was back behind the rows of clothes. All I said was that I was so sorry and hugged her in my arms, and then we both just cried. I listened to her painful story of a son gone much too soon. Tears became our bond . . .

I find that for some reason, I tend to cry much easier and more often now. The tears seem to be much closer to the surface of my life. They can flow with joy and happy times, as well as pensive and thoughtful days; they emerge with sentimental readings and movies, and they are there at times of sorrow. I've discovered that it's always OK to let them out, that they do provide a release for words that I may not always know to say, but more importantly they seem to be the bridge that draws us close to one another. There are precious people in our lives that we can sometimes take for granted, just like the dry cleaning lady, but today, we spent time with one another beyond the usual chat we'd share and found our hearts through the gift of tears. . .

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