Freedom

Yesterday was a day of tears.

Happy tears, sad tears, hopeful tears, freeing tears.  I probably should have just skipped mascara altogether.

Although the common theme with all of the tears was healing.  Tears have always been incredibly cleansing for me.  I think it's something about the symbolism and release.  It's a little like the phoenix bird from Harry Potter; its tears can heal even the most mortal wound.  I really like that idea (although I realize it's fiction).  Most of my tears yesterday were healing, of the encouraging, wound cleaning, and re-invigorating sort.

As they flowed down my face at a worship service last night, I felt free.  Months ago I heard a sermon on Joseph's imprisonment (you know, after he was falsely accused of sexually assaulting Potiphar's wife and then locked up in prison for at least two years)  It finally dawned on me that the desert actually felt like prison.  I felt imprisoned by certain situations.  Unable to do anything but sit and wait.  I didn't understand why, and I didn't know how long I would be there, but I was forced to wait regardless.  I resented it for a long time.  But Joseph was there for a reason.  Yesterday the prison door was unlocked.  As I sat at the foot of the cross, crying through bouts of tears, I heard God say "freedom".  It sat on my heart in the lightest kind of way.

The potholes aren't quite as deep today.  There's an evenness of emotion that is quite welcome and definitely overdue.  I'm still exhausted physically, but I'm spiritually and emotionally filled to overflowing--in the best kind of way.  There isn't a better way to start a week (especially one that ends with a 27-hour bus trip).