We carry the ache. We feel the shift in the room before anyone says a word. We see the sadness tucked behind a smile. We sense the grief sitting in someone’s silence. We weep, not because we are weak, but because the weight of what we carry is heavy and real.
This spoke to me as someone who hurts when others hurt. We’re called to compassion, to weep with those who weep. I hope we never harden our hearts against it.
Oh Sarah, you've done it again! You've touched my heart with your words. This article was made for me although nowadays I cry more in my heart inside than my tears outside. Blessings.
Oh Sarah, this was so good! Walking beside young women into their life stories and patients with deep life realities, what a privilege to share tears. Worship brings the flow of tears because I’m just so thankful that Jesus gave his life for a sinner like me and He is ever faithful to me.
I don’t even have words—just tears. The kind that come quietly but carry decades of weight.
This piece didn’t just speak to me… it named me.
“Some of us were never meant to walk lightly through this world.”
That line stopped me cold. I’ve spent so long wondering if I was too much, too tender, too weighed down by things no one else even noticed. But you reminded me that this ache isn’t weakness. It’s calling. It’s a ministry.
Thank you for putting into words what so many of us carry in silence. For honouring the ones who cry during worship songs, who feel strangers’ grief like their own, who sense the shift in a room before anyone speaks.
Your writing is holy ground. I feel seen. I feel understood. I feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s a sacred purpose in the way I show up in the world.
Thank you, Sarah. I feel this. I cry into my sink. And in prayer. No one understands the love I have for my street family. I don't understand it most days. Some days I feel like God just brought me there to advocate with him. But feeling the weight and pain of other's sorrow and trauma is a gift. He doesn't give it to everyone.
I was looking for this verse, but didn't know the reference. I claim this verse during my prayers and wanted to know the Biblereference. Thank you! Lovely post again Sarah...💔❤️
I was never a crier unless it involved others pain. Others pain broke my heart. Others pain led me to sit quietly beside them, in the dark places I knew so well.
But I never cried for me. Never.
Maybe I thought I wasn’t worth crying for, or worse, that no one would come sit with me.
Sometimes it took being broken in ways I never expected to cry for myself and to cry to the One who knows the deepest of pain.
It has been a hard place to arrive at and to learn to sit with and to truly truly know that He, in the mess and pain and brokenness that was mine, that He sees, knows, heals and loves this crier. That I am not too much, I just am, me , with the tear stained face, puffy eyes, and tissue subscription.
This spoke to me as someone who hurts when others hurt. We’re called to compassion, to weep with those who weep. I hope we never harden our hearts against it.
This article is deeply relatable. I am a sympathetic crier and feel so seen
Empathy is truly a gift 🎁 ❤️
This spoke so deeply to my heart! Thank you for sharing.
That blesses me so much to hear! Thank you for taking a moment to read it ❤️❤️❤️
Oh Sarah, you've done it again! You've touched my heart with your words. This article was made for me although nowadays I cry more in my heart inside than my tears outside. Blessings.
Oh, I’m so touched this spoke to your heart ❤️
Weep with those who are weeping💛
Yes 🙌 ❤️
Oh Sarah, this was so good! Walking beside young women into their life stories and patients with deep life realities, what a privilege to share tears. Worship brings the flow of tears because I’m just so thankful that Jesus gave his life for a sinner like me and He is ever faithful to me.
This is so beautiful to hear❤️ Bless xx
Sarah,
I don’t even have words—just tears. The kind that come quietly but carry decades of weight.
This piece didn’t just speak to me… it named me.
“Some of us were never meant to walk lightly through this world.”
That line stopped me cold. I’ve spent so long wondering if I was too much, too tender, too weighed down by things no one else even noticed. But you reminded me that this ache isn’t weakness. It’s calling. It’s a ministry.
Thank you for putting into words what so many of us carry in silence. For honouring the ones who cry during worship songs, who feel strangers’ grief like their own, who sense the shift in a room before anyone speaks.
Your writing is holy ground. I feel seen. I feel understood. I feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s a sacred purpose in the way I show up in the world.
With love and gratitude,
Susan x
Oh lovely 🥰 you certainly have a calling and I’m here cheering you on all the way 😘
Thanks Sara. I am still early in my ministry (Silent Courage) so I can definitely do with some cheering!
Thank you, Sarah. I feel this. I cry into my sink. And in prayer. No one understands the love I have for my street family. I don't understand it most days. Some days I feel like God just brought me there to advocate with him. But feeling the weight and pain of other's sorrow and trauma is a gift. He doesn't give it to everyone.
This… right here 😘
I was looking for this verse, but didn't know the reference. I claim this verse during my prayers and wanted to know the Biblereference. Thank you! Lovely post again Sarah...💔❤️
Thank you so very much, I needed this more than words can say.
Bless lovely 🥰
Thank you SO much for this beautiful perspective on being created by God to minister his heart through our tears. 🥰🙏💕
I’m so blessed it spoke to you. My heart right here, along with the tears xx.
Thank you. Sometimes I can’t cry easily right now. And I used to.
I was never a crier unless it involved others pain. Others pain broke my heart. Others pain led me to sit quietly beside them, in the dark places I knew so well.
But I never cried for me. Never.
Maybe I thought I wasn’t worth crying for, or worse, that no one would come sit with me.
Sometimes it took being broken in ways I never expected to cry for myself and to cry to the One who knows the deepest of pain.
It has been a hard place to arrive at and to learn to sit with and to truly truly know that He, in the mess and pain and brokenness that was mine, that He sees, knows, heals and loves this crier. That I am not too much, I just am, me , with the tear stained face, puffy eyes, and tissue subscription.