Seemingly an odd thing to be thinking about, isn’t it?  Have you ever thought about them?  I have recently and found that they are quite impressive.
They are clear, but can be clouded with chaos and confusion or colored with charisma and charm.

They can give the appearance of being weightless, but they can be very heavy.

They can come slowly, one drop at a time, or flood your face like a rushing waterfall.

They can be controlled or run wild.

They can come whether welcomed or uninvited.

They can be hidden or flow freely.

They can cause you to be embraced or shunned.

They can evoke compassion or anger.

They can be a mixture of grief and hope, darkness and light.

They can hide secrets or cause you to bear your soul.

They can evoke fear or a sense of relief.

They can hide secrets or expose you.

They can express release or sheer brokenness.

They can be shed in private or in community.

They can be a window to another’s deepest parts or a curtain to hide behind.

They can evoke helplessness or victory.

They can tell a story.

It is here that I want to make it personal.

Last summer was one of the hardest summers of my life. Emotions were raw and tears were frequent. I had taken the summer off from my church of twenty-seven years and visited a church that was/is dear to my heart.  The Lord met me there in the most tender ways and church was a sweet respite and home away from home. Even so, each Sunday called forth tears.  Two particular Sundays stand out among them all. The first of the two was a Sunday that was especially hard. Something challenging had happened before I went to church.   While I sat to wait for service to start, a gentleman that I had not remembered seeing all summer stopped and spoke to me. We exchanged names and he said that he hoped to see me next week. He said that he’d remember my name because he had a daughter named Vickie.  True to his word, he stopped by my seat the next Sunday. I stood to greet and hug him.  He called me by name and said that the Lord had me on his mind all week. At that point, my weekly tears began to flow freely. I told him that I suspected it was because I was in a hard place and the Lord wanted him to pray for me. By now he is holding both my hands in his. He looked at me tenderly, released my hands and with each hand began to wipe my tears away. He then gently kissed me on the forehead and said that he would keep praying. He became Jesus’ hands in that moment.

By the end of the summer I had moved to the next place the Lord had for me, but that man stayed on my mind and in my heart.  I don’t usually spend time learning about the origins of names, but I felt led to look up the meaning of his name. It derives from Old Welch and is a patronymic surname, composed of two elements. The first part means great or splendid and the second part lord. I was struck by the meaning. In no way am I comparing him to my Lord, but my Lord used him in my life. I find it more than a coincidence that his name means great or splendid lord and he had a daughter named Vickie! The Lord was so tender with me by giving me this reminder. Having our paths cross was ordained by God.  Joy filled tears flowed.

He is my Lord.

I am His daughter.