Not again. Tears? Really? Where do they come from? What is their purpose? And the bigger question. HOW CAN I STOP THEM?

It was just one of those weeks. I blogged a few weeks ago about “Bob the Blob,” that heavy “blah” feeling, that personal rain cloud, that seems to park over me from time to time. It seems that sometime in the last week or so, Bob snuck in the door with his suitcase, apparently planning on an extended stay. In his suitcase he carried a slew of bricks, which he dumped unequivocally on my chest.

Last week Dear Hubby (DH) and I were driving down the road, and passed the veterinarian office where we used to take our Dalmatian, Dot Matrix, our first child. Dottie has been gone for over 20 years now, but driving past the vet made me think of Daisy, the dog I had to say good-bye to just this past summer. I burst into tears. My poor DH had no idea (How could he?) why I was sobbing.

A couple of days later it happened again after a long, busy day with no time to write and a task list that was growing faster than it was shrinking. Unlike the drive past the vet, there was no definable trigger and no particular reason. Just tears.

The following night DH and I got ready for bed, nestled down under the covers, and I boohooed. Growing accustomed to these unexpected blubberings, he calmly handed me a tissue and then held me until we fell asleep.

Shall I go on? Because I certainly can! Maybe it’s the season. Perhaps it’s hormones. They’re easy enough easy to blame. Homesickness? Certainly. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing my children. The pandemic? The political upheaval? The always-bad news? All are likely factors.

With my most recent near-outburst, just as I was nearing the emotional edge, I stopped in my tracks and thought, “No! I’ve had it! I’ll turn on some praise music and snap out of it.”

While I’m not sure if worship is ever an entirely inappropriate response, I also recognized that my intention was not actually worship, but rather to sweep my emotions under the rug, so to speak. It was merely an act of avoidance to keep me from having to face myself and my undesirable melancholy.

The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies me….

Psalm 50:23

Psalm 50:23 came to my mind. I had memorized it years ago when going through a difficult time. “The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies me; to one who orders his way rightly I will show the salvation of God!” (English Standard Version). A sacrifice of thanksgiving. This is definitely one of those times when thanksgiving feels like a sacrifice!

I started simply. “Thank you, God, for my sweet husband, who puts up with me and my crazy emotions!” There goes a brick.

“Thank you for my children and their spouses, and the fact that I will get to see them in a few weeks.” And another.

“Thank you for the food and clothing that you so faithfully provide for us.” Again.

“Thank you for the gifts you’ve given my husband, and the job where he is able to use them.” Yet another.

I carried on for a few minutes, my load of bricks lightening with each offering, until the weepy compulsion passed.

I’m not where I want to be just yet. This load of bricks was exceptionally large. And sometimes Bob throws a couple more on when I’m not looking. But I’m working to cultivate a heart of thanksgiving during this season of Thanksgiving, trusting that God will be glorified as I offer my gratitude to Him.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends and fellow pilgrims on this journey of life. May joy and peace through Jesus Christ be yours in abundance!

Is it simply me, or do you have times when your emotions weigh you down like a load of bricks? Will you try offering thanks to God as your sacrifice? What steps can you take to make gratitude a part of your everyday life?