Tears

Last week as I listened to a doctor from Sloan Kettering give my husband a second opinion, I saw the words “To Be Continued” scroll across the screen of my life. I wanted to shout, “No! The year 2020 is done! Down the tube! Finished! Out with the bad, and in with the good!” Instead I listened to an oncologist talk about expected side effects and life expectancy. Two years ago, my husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He had surgery to remove his prostate, but his numbers are up again and a PET scan shows some cancer cells hanging out.

The second opinion reminded me of one of those bad commercials for expensive drugs that always interrupts my favorite TV show. The commercials classically show a beautiful, idyllic outdoor scene with butterflies, the sun shining, and people laughing. They always end with a long list of warnings and possible side effects spoken so quickly that the words are barely comprehensible. In summary, my husband has to undergo hormone therapy and radiation for at least the first half of 2021. His prognosis was not death, but some challenges lay ahead. Gratitude mixed with apprehension. Joy mixed with pain. The year 2020 was a mixture for us, but to hear it is “To Be Continued” was hard.

I needed to talk to someone. I wanted to call my adult children or my close friend, but I knew I had to meet with Jesus first. So I took a long walk. The blaring sun felt warm on my face as I trudged through the icy cold snow.  Memories of hard loss echoed in my mind… my first “lost and never found” puppy at age six, my teenage years overshadowed by my mother’s battle with leukemia and her death my senior year of high school, and a current family estrangement. The tears came fast. My journey of pain demanded attention so I stayed there even as I walked. 

David wrote in Psalm 56:8 “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in Your bottle. You have recorded each one in Your book.” My tears mattered to God. He collects them in a bottle. I wondered why? Why would He keep track of our sorrows? Why would He record each one in His book?

I watched the snow melting around a dirty plastic water bottle wedged between some ice. Someone had either dropped the bottle on that corner or thrown it there. Maybe it fell out of an overloaded garbage can? Even so, nothing changed its worth. Five cents was stamped on the side. Wait a minute! My heart did a u-turn from sorrow to joy as I realized that God must redeem the bottles! No, not the dirty plastic water bottles on the ground, but God collects and redeems our bottles of tears! Why else would they matter to Him? Why else would he keep track of my sorrows and record them in His book? He must have a purpose! He must have a plan! 

It’s been a tough year for everyone. We may never understand the sorrows we’ve experienced in 2020 or how God will redeem them. Still, we can trust that our Everlasting Father sees each one and truly cares.  But we also have a greater hope as we look to the future! No, our hope doesn’t lie in a new year, a better economy, a vaccine, or anything found here on earth. Jesus promises so much more! In the book of Revelation, a loud voice from heaven declares, “And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” Imagine no more pain, no more sorrow, no more death!  Heaven, the greatest redemption center of all, awaits all those who have surrendered their lives, sorrow, and pain to Him!  As we begin a new year, let’s look up and remember our Redeemer is on this journey with us. We are not alone! This coming year as you encounter sorrow and shed tears, will you join me in believing He sees each one and cares?