BIG BOYS DON’T CRY
Repost from Nov 2010…
I’m fascinated by the events in a person’s life that help determine how they’ll respond to life’s struggles. The lumps along the path of life are common to all of us. It’s how we process the pain that eventually heals into a scar we get to carry forever that is the difference. The trials we all face will either be used as tools to build great lives or weapons used to defeat us.
Up until I was in about 2nd or 3rd grade I had a speech impediment. Before the age of “Political Correctness,” I was fair game. Even adults back in those days made fun of me… Not fun for the kid who couldn’t pronounce his “R’s.”
Around that same time in my life, my grandma on my dad’s side passed away after a long bout with cancer. We had some good times even during the process. One of the stories that I recall from that time is that kids weren’t allowed in hospital rooms. My mom and dad told us, “You’re going to get to see Maw-Maw through the glass.” They said it over and over like it was extra special. I know it was, but the way they carried on about it I thought “The Glass” was magical.
By the time we made it around to the back of the hospital and saw my Maw-Maw along with my mom and dad waving I thought, “That’s It? That’s ‘The Glass’? – That’s just a big window!” I waved, pushed my sister and started running down the grassy hill in hopes of inducing a game of tag.
I remember my uncle Buck driving his truck into the middle of our front yard in the middle of the night and vividly remember him pounding on our front door calling for his brother. I could hear my uncle Buck telling my dad to get his boots so they could go get those “Sons-a-_itches.” I listened as my dad calmly repeat, “Buck, you know I don’t do that anymore.”
I was the only one of my siblings who wasn’t tall enough to see over the edge of the casket at my grandma’s funeral. My dad didn’t shed a tear at the funeral. After all, big boys don’t cry. But my uncle Galen, the youngest of the nine siblings, cried like I’d never witnessed a grown man before, I heard the family say it was because he was the baby of the family. My uncle Buck, the oldest of the surviving siblings didn’t cry either. I watched in wonder, learning the lessons of life without shedding a tear as well… just like my heroes…
I’ve pondered those along with many other events and the ultimate impact they might have had on my life. These few incidents are just a thimble of water in the swimming pool of life, but for the few and total here’s what I’ve got so far;
I didn’t let my speech impediment damper my love of Halloween. Sometimes even while laughing at the way I said “Tlick-a-Tleet,” I scored double the amount of candy. That speech impediment landed me in Special Ed. The kids in that pre-PC society fondly referred to that class as the land of retards.
I received one on one teaching with a specialist and once the speech therapist finished with me, I would come to speak plainly and read at a college level while still in grade school.
My dad was the only person in the world to have some control over my uncle Buck. I learned of my dad’s quiet strength, I learned of his self-control, sacrifice, and love for his family. My dad’s priority was God and his family and I got to watch him in times of trials… He never failed.
I think God spared me the confrontation with death at an early age. I held up the line as long as I could on my tippy-toes trying to catch a glimpse over the edge of the casket to view my Maw-Maw one last time before being gently moved along by my dad.
I wondered most of my life if I would be strong like my dad was in public. I wondered if I’d scream with nightmares in the middle of the night like he did after he lost his mom. I’m certain that everyone deals with death in their own unique way. I just wasn’t sure how I would deal with it… It was something I was hoping to put off as long as possible and God did give me enough years to know how I would respond.
God used all the events in my life to bring me to a place of understanding. His will is perfect and everything that happens in our lives has a purpose. I thank God for the place He’s brought me to although I realize this isn’t the Garden of Eden.
Just before God took my dad home, I told him how proud I was to be his son. I shared with him how honored God and his family were by “The good race he had run.” My dad offered a rare glimpse of weeping in appreciation… My mom, wife, and myself joined him in a hug I won’t ever forget…
At my dad’s funeral, I wept again… I’m old enough to be okay letting the world know I’m the baby…
I know for sure it won’t be the last time I shed tears this side of heaven…
Thursday, February 28, 2013 @ 8:05 pm
Being a pastor I have had to hold things together during funerals or during hospital visits. When my f-i-l died, I did his funeral then went out later and bawled like a baby. When my mother died and I did her funeral, I choked on tears but held it together because I had to. Besides, I had had 6 weeks to prepare for it. For some reason men have been taught not to show emotion. I am not one of those men. I shed tears of joy at my daughter’s wedding. I cried when I held my grandson for the first time. I know it won’t be the last time I cry here on this side. I can’t wait for the reunion on the other side.
Friday, March 1, 2013 @ 8:12 am
Beautiful, Bill, just beautiful. I have a dear brother-in-law who is a pastor. His name is Bill too! And he’s my ‘spiritual father’…the one who led me to Christ. I have seen him conduct baptisms and burials, and I always wonder how he holds it together in those joyous, and heartbreaking, times. Maybe he also goes somewhere private and has himself a good ole cry afterwards. I hope so.
Friday, March 1, 2013 @ 2:49 pm
Amen, Bill. Well said… You pastors have an easy way with words. Thanks for the words and example, Bill. God bless.
Friday, March 1, 2013 @ 8:33 am
Oh Floyd, this is a beautiful post. I can see right into your heart here. Yes, the hard things of life can either break us, or make us. It is cathartic to talk about these things, especially when we know the Healer and Restorer of all. We can give Hope to others around us by telling our stories of redemption. How He turns all our ashes into beauty and binds up all our wounds.
Personally? I’ve always thought a man is a ‘real’ man when he allows others to see his heart through his tears. My husband cries at sappy commercials, movies, all things having to do with war veterans, losses of those he loves, whenever he thinks of our new granddaughter, so tiny and perfect. He chokes up when he prays for her, she coming from a bad situation. We wait on adoption proceedings that could take 2-3 years to complete. He prays she will get to stay with us forever. I cannot help but love and cherish a heart like his. I knew he was a ‘softie’ the day I met him…he was grieving the loss of his grandmother. Now he faces the indications that his dear Mom may not be long for this world. Life is hard, but we must keep our hearts soft…and open to love, no matter how wrenching it is when we lose. Tears are a release. And a gift from God. And we know he keeps each one in a bottle. How comforting is that?!
Friday, March 1, 2013 @ 2:53 pm
Wow. Those are wise and profound words, Jillie. “Life is hard, but we must keep our hearts soft.” You’re a blessed lady with a wonderful family and heart. I’m praying for your granddaughter and entire family. Thanks for always sharing your heart here without reserve. It makes God’s wisdom and peace flow at ease. What a gift you have, sister…
Friday, March 1, 2013 @ 9:03 am
I am with Jillie, tears from a man show a Christlike quality for He shed tear. Along with tears at a loved one death, birth of child, grandchildren and a few other occassions one memory stands out to me of my husband tears. We had spend 7 years in Bolivia, come home to help our sending church so we step out of the mission. Ace had went back to the office to send the email to Bolivian leadership…he was gone a long time so went to check on him, found him in tears. His heart was overwhelmed at this task God had handed us. God honored my husband willing heart and a few years later we returned to the mission. As a woman watching her husband heart break I thank God for the tears for they were a release for him. Actually tears are a form of therapy…the times a good cry and chocolate have saved a trip to counseling are more then I can count. God has so designed us to in the physcial, emotional, and spiritual to have relief from stress through tears. It’s a good feeling to cry till no tears are left and then to step back into life again. Great tear stained post brother…
Friday, March 1, 2013 @ 2:58 pm
Thanks for the encouraging words, Betty. Our society mistakes tears as a weakness. When God is in the heart and behind the tears of His children their weakness is needed in order to demonstrate His mighty and sovereign power to the world that ultimately is His. I know part of my own therapy after my dad’s passing was writing. I also know God uses our troubles to bring about His will in this life. It may not be much, but if it’s His will, then we’d best be getting it done. As always I appreciate your kind words and heart. Your style is all you! How I’d love to read one of your novels! Maybe you could call one of them, “Chocolate and Tears!” Thanks, sister. God bless.
Friday, March 1, 2013 @ 7:58 pm
I wept a few days prior to my mother’s death. She and I was alone as everyone else had gone to lunch at her care home. I laid my head in her lap and wept. That was it. It her funeral it was a time of rejoicing. No tears. Big girls do cry too, and big boys are also allowed. Jesus said he will wipe away all our tears.
Saturday, March 2, 2013 @ 8:09 am
I know you were close to your mom, Hazel. What a blessing you were to one another. This life is sad, but you’re right of course; knowing our Father gives us the right to rejoice even in difficult times. Thanks for sharing that personal story, I can relate.
Saturday, March 2, 2013 @ 9:37 am
Hi Floyd,
It’s great to hear more about your life. I have a similar story when it comes to a speech impediment. I had water in my ears and my mom did not find out until I was 3 years old(The Dr. said that I was hearing/learning how to speak like I was under water). At that time I had already learned a babble language so had to relearn how to properly pronounce and speak. When it comes to speech development it really set me back. Since my speech development was behind it set me back in other areas. While in High School they tried to put me in a special ED classes but I refused.
I still struggle with my speech and confidence in this area. WE have to talk about this more when we see each other:)
Saturday, March 2, 2013 @ 11:48 am
Yeah, I spent some time in the special Ed classes in high school. Once you get labeled it’s hard to get out. School was much harsher in some ways in my younger days. There were no SAT’s to test the schools, if they pushed a kid through they got tax dollars period… We definitely will have to discuss this along with all the other good stuff! We should be in your neck of the woods around Easter. Hope we can hook up! That set back doesn’t seem to have slowed you down! It may have made you more determined? God has a way of using tough times to make us stronger and to choose the path He’s chosen for us. Thanks, Dan.
Sunday, March 3, 2013 @ 10:00 am
Great, whenever you know let just message me so we can set it up:) Have a blessed day!
Sunday, March 3, 2013 @ 11:52 am
Okay, will do. Thanks, Dan.
Sunday, March 3, 2013 @ 6:14 pm
The older I get, the easier I cry. When I was young, I was a rock. Now I can’t watch a really happy or sad movie without having to bite my lip and gulp water to keep me from losing it. 🙂 I guess I’m less concerned about image these days, and more concerned about truth and love.
Sunday, March 3, 2013 @ 6:48 pm
I’d say that’s a good thing, Mike. I’m with you. When I was young I was considered cold hearted… Seems my gate is swinging the other direction by approximately one hundred and eighty degrees… Not so bad I think. Well said, brother. You sum up my thoughts quite well… Thanks, Mike.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013 @ 3:01 pm
I didn’t cry for more than a few seconds when each of my parents died. Why? After their horrible lives they have lived, experienced, they had come to the Lord and were going to be thoroughly healed in heaven.
I cry a lot more often today than ever recall. Why? Our world is becoming so much more sinful, so much more mixed into other gods, accepting much that truly isn’t acceptable. And, as you know, I truly know. I came out of “tough, rough, and sinful” life. People today somehow don’t know the difference. Back then, people made the choice and they knew what they were choosing, and what it would result in. So, so often now, while hearing news, seeing local kids’ eyes/attitudes, even g-kids, fills my eyes with tears. I used to cry from anger as a youngish person… now I cry from anger/sorrow that people simply don’t understand.
Need to head and get our van from the shop. So, I’ll stop yammering at you.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013 @ 5:21 pm
No. I like it when you share your heart. No such thing as yammering here… I’m with you. God changes our hearts and the tears we shed are for others, less of ourselves. That is such a great point, Joanne. Thanks for adding it and adding to the wisdom. Iron is sharpening iron, sister.