Not a Breakdown. A Breakthrough in Disguise.
Because even what falls carries faith.
I look at the tear sitting quietly at the edge of my eye.
Not falling. Not releasing.
Just holding. Just waiting.
And I dare to ask—
What are you doing there?
The tear whispers back,
“I am the weight you never spoke.
The prayer you never finished.
The ache you tried to hide behind your smile.”
And suddenly I realize:
Tears are not weakness.
They are liquid prayers.
Miniature baptisms.
They wash what words cannot explain.
Jesus wept.
Mary wept.
The saints wept.
Heaven itself holds a chalice for every tear.
So why am I ashamed of mine?
Maybe the holiest act is not choking them back,
but letting them fall—
into God’s hands,
where pain becomes prayer,
and sorrow becomes seed.
So I let it go.
And the tear, finally free,
does not fall to the ground.
It falls into Grace.
And I hear the whisper again:
“You were never meant to hold me.
You were meant to release me.
Because only when you let go,
does God step in.”
A tear released is not weakness.
It is surrender.
And surrender is where resurrection begins.