I mentioned in my last post that on our flight home, just days after losing the baby, I ended up crying over hummus.
It sounds ridiculous, I know, but let me just tell you, when you are amidst hardships, you never know what will trigger your tears. For me, it was hummus. In the middle of the Philadelphia Airport.
In attempts to stay busy in the days before we flew to the States, I made guacamole hummus
to take with me on the plane to snack on. I had also made quite a bit extra to give
to my sister when I saw her.
We made it through customs in Philly and after a very long
wait in a very long line, we were just about through security as well
until they spotted something suspicious in my bag.
Seeing that they were pointing to my Tupperware, I told them it was hummus but they looked a little unsure, not
really knowing what to do with it, so they took me aside for extra
They searched my bag, took out the hummus, opened it, and
then said, "This is a binding agent and is more than than the 3 ounce
limit, you can't have this."
immediately felt myself start to choke up, but knowing how ridiculous
it seemed for me to get emotional over having to get rid of my hummus, I
did my best to hold it together.
had another smaller container with me, left over from trail mix or something, and so asked if I could just transfer
some hummus into it so that I could at least have something to eat (I
was starving and was really looking forward to my hummus!) and then they
could throw the rest away.
said, sure that's no problem, but in order to do that I'd have to go back through
security, which, as I mentioned before, was a really long wait in a
really long line. We didn't have time to wait or else we'd miss our
connection. Plus, Luis was already through, waiting for me on the other
myself getting really emotional at this point, I did my best to say
"Okay, well I guess you can throw it away then" in as
cheerful a voice as I could muster, and without my voice cracking
revealing that I was on the verge of tears over the loss of my hummus.
went to grab it to scoop out the hummus it out into the trash and they said "No, no,
don't touch. We will dump it." And then they threw it away, container included, which was a really nice container by the way.
I've gotten over the hummus, but I still shed a little tear when I think about my poor container just sitting in the trash of the Philadelphia Airport.
Anyway, after finishing up at security, I
gathered my things, walked to Luis and did my best to hold the
floodgate of tears that were about to burst right there in the middle of the airport.
Luis, obviously able to
tell that I was not okay as I sniffled and choked back tears, put his
arm around me and so gently said "You really wanted that hummus didn't
while this is sort of an embarrassing, yet comical story, my tears, of course, had nothing to do
with them taking my hummus and everything to do with that which was really taken from us: our baby. At that moment, I couldn't help but have this overwhelming feeling that everything--from something as unimportant as hummus to as precious as our child--was being taken from us.
I shed a lot of tears over the course of the last six months. Some days the tears just came, quietly and slowly, for no real reason at all other than I just needed to cry.
Other days, I would see or hear something when I was out--sometimes alone, sometimes with others--that would trigger the floodgates and I had to fight back hard to hold them in.
This happened in church a lot. In fact, there was a season where I couldn't listen to any kind of worship music because all I would do was cry and cry.
There were moments like the hummus tragedy when I knew I was being ridiculous for wanting to cry and yet I couldn't stop the tears from coming either.
And then there were many nights when I cried in agony, curled up, in the protection of my husbands arms, wondering if the pain would ever go away. If the emptiness would could
ever be filled; if it even could be filled.
I love Psalm 56:8, "...You have collected all my tears in your bottle..." What a picture of how much God cherishes us, right down to even the tiniest details of who we are, that He would remember, and save, every tear we've ever cried.
Some of us, myself included, will have some very big bottles when we get to heaven! But as much as I had days when I wished that I could just stop crying all the time, I see now that it is through my tears that God brought healing.
It is through my tears that I experienced the truth of Matthew 5:9 "Blessed are those who mourn, for the will be comforted."