Casting seeds in tears

Pat led us in prayer this morning, from Psalm 126: Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy . . . using a song sent by Heather:

Those who walk in fields to sow
Casting their seed in tears,
Will one day tread those same long rows
Amazed by what’s appeared.

Seeds, falling, watered by tears. This gives the tears meaning, and even hope, that what we mourn will be transformed, that the mourning itself is part of the transformation.

Six weeks ago I stood on the Paediatric ward to welcome our visitors from the USA, but I could hardly talk to them, because Birungi Suizen lay wasted, bleeding, starving, pitiful. Tears flowed. Today I was truly amazed by what has appeared: he took steps on his own, just a few, but real steps. He eats eagerly now, laughs, cries with passion, jives a bit to a cellphone ringtone, resists the grabs of his baby brother. His transformation has been one of the least likely ones I’ve ever witnessed. I’m glad to have tread that row long enough to see the joy.

Sometimes the tears are not so selfless, just tears of weariness and frustration. Having four preteen/teens can be a storm of hormones, a cacophony of conflicts as they collide in a small house. And their heart issues become more complicated. When Jack and Julia appeared in their new uniforms, they were met at their classroom building by a large group of students on the steps who laughed at them. And while some kids can shrug that off as just the pettiness of the group, the tendency of a small isolated culture to protect themselves from difference . . . It is very hard on Jack who is already much younger than anyone else, who can’t interact on the sports field like my other three kids because of his running-induced heel injury, who is the youngest and more sensitive to acceptance and approval, whose solid frame has become even more strikingly large with his lack of exercise and more likely to draw out malicious teasing. So when he says “I like living here and I don’t care if people laugh at me on the road, but I just want to go to a school where I can be part of the group too . . .” well, that is hard to take. Praying for faith that those tears (his and mine) will bear something of valuable beauty in his life some day.