He cries when I won’t let him play on the street.
He cries when I won’t give him wasabi to eat.
He cries over every little thing. Spilled milk is not the end of the world. but sometimes it is. to him.
If I catered to every little tear, he would always be a cry baby, like some adults I know. Maybe that’s why God doesn’t say yes to everything;
sometimes, he lets us cry.
Sometimes he lets us trip and scrape our knee. Sometimes he lets us get stung by a bee. Sometimes we mistake it for apathy. But it’s the opposite.
He loves you enough to let you grow. He loves you enough to say no. because it would destroy you. Instead of letting you die, sometimes he lets you cry.
Why won’t God let me fly too high?
Why didn’t God let me say goodbye?
Why did God let my Lazarus die?
Though so many questions mystify,
remember the next time you wonder why sometimes.
Sometimes he lets us cry.
He cries when I won’t give him wasabi to eat.
He cries over every little thing. Spilled milk is not the end of the world. but sometimes it is. to him.
If I catered to every little tear, he would always be a cry baby, like some adults I know. Maybe that’s why God doesn’t say yes to everything;
sometimes, he lets us cry.
Sometimes he lets us trip and scrape our knee. Sometimes he lets us get stung by a bee. Sometimes we mistake it for apathy. But it’s the opposite.
He loves you enough to let you grow. He loves you enough to say no. because it would destroy you. Instead of letting you die, sometimes he lets you cry.
Why won’t God let me fly too high?
Why didn’t God let me say goodbye?
Why did God let my Lazarus die?
Though so many questions mystify,
remember the next time you wonder why sometimes.
Sometimes he lets us cry.