Those pesky involuntary tears came on my first adult visit to Florence. It began in the saltwater taffy shop where childhood feelings of trips to the Oregon coast surfaced after five decades of dormancy.

These are the tears of significance. These are the tears not of sadness but of spiritual meaning. They say, “This place mattered to you, Tim. Pay attention, there is something to be learned here.”

They come in new places, too. Those pesky involuntary tears came again as I wandered through Saturday Market in Eugene, Oregon. They began when the Chinese American children sang. They continued as I walked in the midst of the artists. They reached their crescendo among the vegetables and berries where the violinist played his emotion-laden tune for passersby.

These are tears of significance. These are the tears not of sadness but of spiritual meaning. They say, “This place matters to you, Tim. Pay attention, the One is speaking to you. There is something to be learned.”

The beach was devoid of humanity except for me. I stood at the edge of vastness. Waves edging ever closer to me, those pesky involuntary tears came again. Calm and damp eyes combined to form the peace of being beloved and a part of creation.

These are tears of significance. These are the tears not of sadness but of spiritual meaning. They say, “This place matters to you, Tim. Pay attention, you are a part of a greater whole. You are beloved by the One who loves in the now, in the then, and in the time to be. There is something to be learned.”