My body has forgotten how to cry. I mean, I regularly tear up, I’m not a monster. But to cry, actually let the tears slip down my cheeks, sob, any actual catharsis, no. I cried at the beginning of last summer. It was the last day my family was worshipping at the church where we had attended for 11 years, where I had been the youth pastor, where my girls were born, with the people who rebuilt my house after the fire . It was also the last Sunday some of our best friends would be there. They were moving to Iowa. I cried from the moment worship began and all through the carry-in meal. I cried as I told them, “Thank you for allowing me to help raise your children and for helping me to raise mine.” That was the last time. Before that, I cried twice in the fall of 2018: both pretty intense circumstances. But, generally, the tears don’t come. They ball into a painful pressure at the top of my sternum. (Yes, I am aware that’s the heart chakra.) The world feels like it’s falling down. I have n
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