As evening fell on one of the many drives my husband and I made to and from the Medical Center of Augusta, the 200 lamp posts along River Watch Parkway flickered to life. In that moment, I noticed the shape of their glow: teardrops.
Tears are strange things—sweet and salty, born of both joy and sorrow. Bitter when they fall from grief, disappointment, and the ache of a world that does not work as it should. Salty when they are prayed in the dark at 2 AM, at goodbyes you were not ready for, at moments when your chest feels too small for the sorrow inside.
But tears are sweet too, like salted caramel stirred into warm coffee. They are the overflow of gratitude when mercy finds you unexpectedly. They are the gentle release of forgiveness, the quiet unlocking of love that crumbles prisons of fear and doubt.
Even tears of sorrow carry a deeper sweetness. They are evidence of a heart still capable of love and hope—not a heart of stone. And here is the truth: every tear is fully known by God. None are wasted. None are unseen. Not only the dramatic ones, but also the quiet tears brushed away before anyone notices—the ones cried alone in the car, the ones you cannot even explain. “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in Your bottle” (Psalm 56:8).
God does not flinch at your pain or overlook your joy. Bitter tears will not have the last word. The sweet ones are a foretaste of the day He will wipe every tear away.
Until then, cry freely and honestly. He is watching, and He cares more than you know.
With you on the journey,
