Crying is like giving others a glimpse into a part of your soul. It is a vulnerable state, and when someone is vulnerable, it awakens something in us. The question is: what does it awaken in you?

Seen yet unseen

Often, my mom says my eyes are like a faucet. Because when I am deeply touched, tears flow down my face like water in the Zambezi river – but without a sound. However, it was not always so. When I was younger, I rarely cried. I viewed tears as a sign of weakness, and I never wanted to be seen as weak. I wanted to be known as one capable of enduring deep physical and emotional pain, like Wonder Woman. So, I worked at it! 😊

When I was eight years old, a rebar gashed my right foot at a construction site. Without making a sound, I walked away from the construction crew, looked for my sister, and told her what happened. When she saw the wound, she began screaming, and I asked her to keep her voice down. I was more concerned that her screams would make me look needy than whether they would help me.
I had one rule for myself: do not cry. But if you must, do so in private. – This is a miserable existence!

Fortunately, somehow, sometime, and somewhere, it all changed.

Being truly seen

Earlier this year, on a cloudy morning at about 8:30, my dad lay on a hospital bed. I wanted him to rest. But I also wanted to connect with him. So, I began playing a song that he and I both loved. Out of nowhere, without opening his eyes, he began mouthing the words, and a tiny smile broke across his face. It was the most familiar reaction I had seen from him in over twenty-four hours, and it brought me to tears.

Suddenly, the nurse walked into his room. She was a Jamaican lady and a mom to a young boy. As soon as she saw tears streaming down my face, she said, Mama, what is wrong? Before you walked into his room, we were talking, and you were fine. What has happened? I looked at her and, without saying a word, kept squeezing his hand. She continued to watch me and interpreted my actions as those of a scared woman missing her dad. Immediately, she said, He is getting better. And to persuade me, she began reading the results of his recent medical tests one at a time.

The call of vulnerability

Almost instantly, the tenor of the room changed. I saw her as a human who deeply cared about others. And she also saw me differently: The desperation of the moment shrunk me into the little Daddy’s girl I once was. My tears awakened something in her. Through them, she saw my vulnerability and responded compassionately – aware that I was suffering and with a keen desire to relieve it.
That experience illustrated the power of vulnerability and the value of compassion.

When someone is hurting, they are vulnerable.
In their vulnerability, they call out – sometimes with tears. Other times, with words. Often with silence.
And the only worthy response is compassion.

For you and to you,
Aké

Image credit: Pexels | Polina Zimmerman