This Crying Lady

Rocelyn attends the church I pastor. If one craves for a shot of unabridged smile, she serves as repository. If there is one person I know whose life has been a narrative of exquisite challenges, it has got to be this saint.

Being an artist, her craft serves as vehicle of praise to the One source of our sightings of pulchritude. She is a professional esthéticienne. Whenever some celebrity visits Dallas for a session, she is the usual choice for styling preparation. There has yet to be an appointment where her client got spared from her contagious glee. A few times, I have gone for haircut, I come home glee-embellished.

Not a lot of people know her secret. She weeps quite frequently.

Her tears are different. She has discovered the depth of Christ's loyal love in its capacity to sabotage her most furious complaints. In her silent corner, she is quick to claim the power of God's available mercy in her life journey. Her husband shines because of this incredible support. Her children soar because of this immutable anchor. All these, while joyfully trusting her Lord with profuse tears.

I have learned deeply from this crying lady. Not all tears swell from toxic brutalities. There are times of weeping that are so deeply spiritual: they produce the pearls of Christ's abiding beauty.