My time in Honduras is coming to a close, and we are getting ready to head to South Africa on the 29th! If you hadn't already heard, myself, along with some other squad mates, sadly got Covid while living on the mountain and have been in quarantine now for 10 days. We re-tested negative a few days ago, but are taking precautions and waiting a few more days, before we return to meet up with the rest of our teammates. To be completely honest, it's been a whirlwind of emotions, everyday. Most days I am ok and I can pass the time with books, walking the halls, music and talking to The Father. But other days are harder and I find myself in tears because I want to get out. 

The time that I have had alone with The Father has been truly needed. He has gently reminded me that my tears are not only ok, but He welcomes them. He isn't afraid of them. In fact He wants me to share them with Him while He walks alongside, sweetly holding my hand. He wants me to be vulnerable, raw, real and honest with Him. He isn't afraid of my tears; He welcomes them.

I've always been someone who cries. A good movie, a sweet moment, a precious word, sitting still listening to His voice, the heartbreak of another- at any given moment my tears could come, and that's ok. I've learned over the years that tears are good. They are needed. I want my heart to break for what God's breaks for. And I think my tears show Him that I truly care about the people and things He has placed in my life. 

Being stuck is hard. But I have a Father who is sitting right next to me on the balcony when the tears come. He's holding my hand, holding me in His arms and telling me " I know it's hard, but I'm here." He isn't afraid of my tears; He welcomes them. He sees my fragile heart and He tells me "The tears are ok." He sits with me through the struggle and gently guides me back to Him. 

I asked God why He made me too sensitive, and He promised me it wasn't a mistake. He told me He purposely made me delicate, not so that I could shatter easily, not so that I could be frail, not so that I could be told that I'm "too soft"- it was so that I could know of the gentle beauty in living. And in my tenderness, I can love in a way that the world may not know of yet. My compassion has the power to speak raging waves to calmness and I can appreciate the little things He created that go unnoticed. There is something special in being fragile, and it has nothing to do with weakness, and everything to do with strength. He told me "being sensitive is a gift." So I let the tears come when they want to, and I welcome them. He isn't afraid of my tears; He welcomes them.