raindrops tears

I’m a dry-eyed gal most of the time, and I have always prided myself on that trait.

Then I started going to Mass.

I certainly didn’t mean to turn into a blubbering mess.  At the time, I was a tough know-it-all college graduate, and I was only there because this good-looking Prince Charming of mine insisted that he had to go before we could go on a date.

My ego and I often don’t fit in the same room at the same time, and I had to go to Mass to find out what all the fuss was about.

And I found tears.

Not just sniffly, polite tears.  Not just leaky-eye tears.  Not just moisture-and-trickle tears.

No, what I found were gallons of tears, buckets of tears, oceans of tears.

You can read the rest at Integrated Catholic Life.