You number my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle; are they not in Your book? —Psalm 56:8
Emily was a pretty little seven-year-old girl when I first met her.
Her parents had moved halfway across the country, and Emily was missing her hometown.
I saw her standing in the hallway of our church one day, looking very sad.
“Emily,” I asked, “where did you move from?”
“From Missouri,” she replied with a shy smile.
“Well, where in Missouri?” I persisted.
For a moment Emily stared at the floor. Then, looking at me with twinkling eyes, she said, “I know exactly where. I found it on my map last night. I can always find it easy ’cause I stained a tear on it.”
Now, her words still ring in my head. All things we hold dear in this life—friendship, family, places we love—are marked at one time or another by our tears. The map of our lives without their stains would be devoid of richness and meaning.
Thank you, Father, for helping me see that tears are not a weakness, but a marker of the meaningful things in our lives.
