I was dishing up my normal bowl of ice cream before bed last night, including the all-important chocolate sprinkles that bring back the positive feelings of childhood, when I mis-scooped causing a precious scoop of ice cream to drop flat on the counter. Needless to say (although I will say it anyway) I was a bit disappointed with the situation as ice cream is so crucial to my happiness right now.
Of course there is the 10-second rule, which in the case of more valuable commodities can be increased up to 30 seconds, especially if the counter is clean. But my internal process went something like this:
1. I see the ice cream hit the deck.
2. My heart sinks, just another disappointment in a long line of them.
3. I hear a voice chanting: “There is no use crying over spilt milk.”
4. I re-scoop and enjoy, yet there is the lingering disappointment; the awareness that something is not right in the world.
Now, just to be clear…I didn’t cry over the spilt ice cream. This incident, however, did get me thinking about the saying. I began to wonder: perhaps there really is a use for crying over spilt things, i.e., the ever-present feeling of spilt-ness with regard to life in general.
I suppose the saying is meant to help kids move on past minor disappointments, I mean no one, not even kids, really thinks that crying will put the milk back in the glass. In this sense the saying is dead on. As a kid, however, I thought crying over spilt things had two functions. First, it was an attempt to get adults involved in rectifying the situation. After all, crying couldn’t get the milk back in the glass, but surely an adult could. Second, it was a legitimate expression of disappointment; the sometimes crushing feeling that life is going to hurt.
I don’t think there is any question that in many ways I am still a kid. Perhaps the only difference is that the crying has now been joined by cursing, but the meaning of the tantrum reaction remains. Well, the meaning mostly remains. Now it seems that the crying over the spilt-ness of life is an attempt to get God, or anyone that will listen, involved in the situation, surely somebody more adult than I could do something about it, right? (I’m not just talking about ice cream anymore.) “He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry; when he hears it, he will answer you.”
But also, now the crying is not only an expression of disappointment over the spilt-ness of life, but it is also a source of healing for the disappointment. The cry-er is on the road to recovery because she/he is owning up to the pain, that is, becoming authentic to the disparity between our desires and the way the world apparently works. This point is true both psychologically as well as theologically. As someone famous once said, “Blessed are those that mourn, for they alone will be comforted.” And in a more theological tone: “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Thus, it appears that there is a use after all in crying over spilt milk, as long as the crying is done in the right way.
"To be commanded to love God at all, let alone in the wilderness, is like being commanded to be well when we are sick, to sing for joy when we are dying of thirst, to run when our legs are broken. But this is the first and great commandment nonetheless. Even in the wilderness —especially in the wilderness —you shall love him."
—Frederick Buechner
