Crying In Offices
Some of the more tortuous times of my life have been marked by a good cry in someone else's office. I certainly don't plan it that way. I don't even like it that way. But that's how it happens.

When I was in highschool, I was living with my mom and brother. The two of them were fighting all the time. I couldn't tell you why. But, he was a young teen, our parents were divorced...and Jeff had a trump card: he could always move in with my dad. So, one day when I was driving home from school I saw my brother walking down the street with a wagon full of treasures. I pulled over and asked him what he was doing. He was moving in with dad.

The fact that my family was split was hard on me, but I had "handled it well" as they say. I was mature about it. I went along. I stood strong. But, seeing my brother walk away was more than I could bear. Not one to shrug off responsibility, I went to my French horn lesson anyway. I got through the greetings and started to play. Three notes and it was over. I started sobbing uncontrollably. My poor teacher was a 20-something man who didn't have a clue what to do with me. Once I could speak and tell him what was wrong, he told me to go on home and not worry about the lesson.

A few years later, in college, I went to see a professor about an assignment. He casually asked me how I was doing. I said fine and then broke out in tears. He clumsily searched for his box of Kleenex and had a bewildered look on his face. You see, I was broke. But, I hadn't told anyone. I didn't intend to tell him, either. But, he was a kindly, fatherly type who made me feel hopeful. He told me money problems are not problems...it would work out. He was right, and he gave me the courage to trudge through on Bisquick and noodles.

Then there was law school. At the end of year one, my mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I was scared to death. The surgery was scheduled just a few weeks before the end of school, so I had to tell my instructors I would be absent a few days. I told each professor the news bravely, until I got to my favorite professor. I was doing just fine until a wave of compassion came over his face. The fact that he cared even a bit opened the floodgates. It was a little easier to cry that time because he already knew why I was crying. (You know that crying where the other person doesn't know and you're trying to tell them but you keep choking up and you can't get a word out so you get embarrassed and cry more....it wasn't like that).

And today made four.

You see, my father has Parkinson's disease. He was diagnosed when he was 49. He is now 64. He lives in a nursing home and he just ran out of money. I have known this was coming for years, but the closer it got, the more I shut down. I just couldn't deal with it. It's too emotional for me to act rationally. Well, last week it all caught up with me. The pharmacist cut him off. I was sure the nursing home wasn't far behind. But, I couldn't figure out what to do! His disability income is slightly higher than the maximum monthly income you can have and still get Medicaid. But, its much, much less than his monthly expenses.

I have been walking around in a silent turmoil, half in denial and half shut down. I have been turning over the options in my head. Over and over and over. Nothing has been adding up. So, today I broke down. I just couldn't think any more. I couldn't deny the situation any more. I had to come to the table. I threw myself a pity party and cried to God about how I didn't want to do it. I felt a strong answer: you must walk through the fire to find your strength.

I drove to the nursing home and walked straight into the office. When I didn't recognize the gentleman at the desk, I almost left...but my feet kept walking right in. He asked how he could help me. I told him my situation and apologized for not addressing it sooner. He was so very kind. He thought for a moment and presented a possible option. It is a glorious option that will absolutely relieve the stress. Guess what? I started crying. The option may not work. But he offered to discuss it with the other owners and call me tomorrow. He was mercy and compassion. Who wouldn't cry? I deserved a lecture. I got grace.

So, now I recognize my pattern of holding things in until I arrive at a breaking point in someone's office. Those of you who know me probably think I wear my heart on my sleeve. Its true I wear some of it there. But, if you want to see the rest, I guess you may have to invite me into your office!