Pocket Full Of Tears  
Pocket Full of Tears

I went in the gift shop to buy a hat. 105 degrees is hot. I am not very observant. Two months into the trip, I finally noticed that everyone out west wears a hat while hiking. I left the gift shop owning a hat and a ticket to take a night cruise down the Colorado River. Mallory sold me my hat and my ticket. The cruise included a story about the area and a light show on the side of the mountain. As if that was not enough, there would be a genuine western dinner before the trip. Yes, that trip was in my future.

Mallory is a college student. I noticed her immediately because she looked so sad. It was Saturday night. I asked her about churches for the next day. “There are no good ones here,” she said.

I laughed. “I guess I know what you think about church here.” She went on to make a couple of suggestions. “Do you go to church anywhere?” I asked.

“I’m Catholic but I don’t go. I have gone to an evening Bible Study.”

“Are you a Christian?” I inquired.

“I was baptized a Christian at birth.”

“Yes, I guess you were if you’re Catholic. Have you personally decided to make Christ a part of your life?” I pursued.

“Well, I liked the Bible Study,” she hedged.

“What is your favorite book in the Bible?” I quizzed.

She surprised me with, “Genesis.” I usually hear Psalms, Proverbs, or one of the four Gospels. I have even heard Revelations, but never Genesis.

“Why?” I asked.

She began telling her story. “My Grandmother was a Christian. She was Baptist. She studied the Bible continuously and was fascinated by the number seven in Genesis. She also loved the stars. Grandma got sick and had an operation. She actually died on the operating table and was brought back to life. She was never the same again. She said she had seen a glimpse of heaven and was ready to die. I had to beg her to eat.”

“Grandma, please eat.”

“You don’t understand,” Grandma would say. “It is time for me to die. I am at peace.”

Mallory went on with her story. “I gave up the rest of my life and spent every day with her. Finally she went to the hospital. As she lay dying, she kept talking about seeing the beautiful 7 stars. She said they were bowing and dancing and it was beautiful. She said someone was there with her and they were very nice. I believe my grandmother was seeing heaven and the stars mentioned in Genesis. I do believe in heaven and God.”

“It sounds like your grandmother had a sweet relationship with God. She let you see it because she probably wanted the same thing for you. Do you have any relationship with God? I asked.

“No,” she said. “I have had too many losses in my life. I would have trouble being close to a God that took so much from me.”

“What have you lost?” I gently asked.

“I lost 3 grandparents. When I was 14 years old, my boyfriend was killed in an accident. I grew up right here in this city. 14 of my friends and classmates died in car accidents while I was in school.” As she talked, she went to crying. Her losses were years old. She was college student but had the eyes of a much older person. Suddenly I understood the stooped shoulders and the lost look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

I breathed a prayer of thanks that we were the only people in the gift shop.

“Do you want this pain to get better?” I asked.

“My pain can’t go away. These people are not coming back,” she replied.

“Oh Mallory, I promise you that you can be free of pain,” I said. “I speak from experience. There is an answer.” By this time, I was crying too. I shared the losses in my life. I talked about some of the people I had met on the journey. I talked about the lives God had turned around and the hearts he had healed.

“You are collecting pain.” She knew the name of my journey was Pocket Full of Quarters. “You have a pocket full of tears. You have been walking through your entire life and taking each painful experience and putting it in your pocket. Your pockets are bulging with your tears. It will only get worse unless you give up. Life is full of pain. You don’t have any more room in your pockets for tears.” I stopped to take a breath. I had not meant to make such an impassioned plea. I hoped I had spoken God’s words and not mine.

“What do I do?” She asked. “I’ve been to the churches here. They don’t help people focus on God.” I decided not to argue with her. It was a very small town and there was a possibility she was right. It did not matter anyway because she believed she was right.

“What about where you go to college?” I asked. “Have you tried the churches there?’

“No,” she admitted.

“Do you really want me to suggest what to do?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“OK, I’ll make some suggestions. First, settle the issue about Jesus. Ask him into your life. Tell him about your pain. Confess your mistakes. Make him a part of your life. Next, when you get back to college, find a Christian church with a strong college program. Get active. Go to Sunday School and church. Get in a weekly Bible Study. Begin doing morning devotions and never miss a day. Tell God what is hurting you. Give him your pain. Ask him what to do with your life. Join Christian organizations on campus. Fill your pockets with God so you have no room for your tears. I promise you things will get better.”

As I left, I prayed for Mallory. I asked others to pray for Mallory. I felt a moment of panic. I had made big promises to Mallory. I know an awful lot of unhappy Christians. I briefly wondered if I had misspoken. “Oh God, you are faithful. If she seeks you, please be there for her.”

With most people, I never found out the rest of the story. The next summer Bob and I took a western vacation. We went back to that very same gift shop to take the boat ride. I remembered Mallory’s face clearly. I wondered if she would be working there again this summer. I saw someone who favored Mallory but it could not possibly be her. This young woman was standing tall. She was animated and laughing. Her eyes were alive. “Did you work here last summer?” I tentatively asked.

“Yes,” she gasped. “You’re the Pocket Full of Quarters lady. I did everything you suggested and it worked. I’m happy. People must tell you all the time how much you helped them.”

I laughed. “No, not really. Sometimes they tell me to mind my own business. Mostly, I never get to know the end of the story.” The gift shop was busy. She took the next customer. I left crying. God is faithful. He put his words in my mouth. On my own, I can be annoying. He had prepared Mallory’s heart so she could hear. She had taken action. It was obvious he had responded. Why was I so surprised and amazed? “Oh thank you Father. Forgive my lack of faith.”

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Cheryle M. Touchton is the Director of Pocket Full of Change Ministries. For more information or to schedule a speaker for an event, go to www.pocketfullofchange.org or call Cheryle Touchton at 904-614-3585.

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