Sometimes life can feel like hell on earth, I once heard someone say.

Can't say that I disagree.

In the Old Testament, Job (which looks like "job," as in, a means to pay the bills, but is pronounced "jobe," because why not?) knew about hell on earth. In one fell swoop, he lost his job, his family, and his health. His wife and friends were less than supportive, and his life pre-dated any good emotional support groups (mental health wasn't a thing till about 4,000 years later).

So, what do we do, when we get a negative report from the doctor, and the boss is breathing down our necks, and our loved ones are far from home, and everything feels Just. So. Dang. Hard??

This is the part where you probably expect me to say a cute little prayer, and maybe even give you an encouraging Bible verse, and I could certainly do that. There will be time for that. But for now, it's okay to cry.

Science tells us that tears are healing, and can release toxins from our bodies. Which is cool in and of itself, but I doubt any of us are sitting around thinking, "you know, I could use a good detox; I think I'll watch videos about sad homeless puppies and shed a tear or two to help." My point is that one doesn't have to look far in life to find a reason to cry. This world is hard, and it's painful at times.

Just today, my auntie passed away, and I found out while I was at work. I was already going through a bit of a personal crisis this week (more on that later), and I'd just seen my counselor the day before, wherein I made some good progress and had a plan to get through the day.

Then I got the phone call. My Dad's voice sounded strange, and I knew something bad had happened. His baby sister had passed unexpectedly. The sweet girl that used to curl my hair when I lived with her in my pre-K years (who, by the way, burned my ears with that stupid curling iron and emotionally scarred me for life for hot hair tools) was no longer with us.

For a minute, the world stopped. I tried to think of the right thing to say, and the right Scripture to give comfort, and how I should probably get on the internet and find some reasonable airfare to fly home. But all I could do was cry.

There is more than just good scientifically-proven toxins in our tears. Our tears hold our stolen hopes, and too many hard days in a row, and our homesickness for someone we can't hold, and our desire for real connections, and the pain of living in a fallen world.

Tears say, "I'm not okay. Life is not okay right now."

And you know what? I think Jesus is okay with that. I know He is. He cried, too, when His friend Lazarus died. Yes, the best was yet to come (as it is with us), and He would heal broken hearts and raise his friend to life again. But in the moment, it was okay to cry.

Today, just know that the best is still ahead of you. That more good times are coming. That you will see your loved ones again and Jesus will set it all right once and for all.

But for now, it's okay to cry.