I went fourteen years once without crying. After the first decade of tearlessness it bothered me to the point that I began asking God to tenderize my heart.

Yesterday, after nine years in Sarajevo I said goodbye to dear friends, angels and rascals who became brothers and sisters, sons and daughters. I’m no longer tearless. Somewhere over the Atlantic I my put on my headphones, randomly chose a song by Rich Mullins, and found my heart dripping down my cheeks.

Now the plummer’s got a drip in his spigot
The mechanic’s got a clank in his car
And the preacher’s thinking thoughts that are wicked
And the lover’s got a lonely heart
My friends ain’t the way I wish they were
They are just the way they are.

And I will be my brother’s keeper
Not the one who judges him
I won’t despise him for his weakness
I won’t regard him for his strength
I won’t take away his freedom
I will help him learn to stand
And I will, I will be my brother’s keeper

I’m missing them today… children, now grown into men, and men who are now standing before Jesus; friends who stood, and some who fell. They’ve enriched my life in ways only my heart can understand. I wish I could tally what I’ve left behind in Bosnia. There’s only One who can do that.  But I do know that Bosnia has left something deep and rich in me. My tears tell me so.