Sometimes the joy scheduled for the morning has to wait through many nights of weeping before it can greet us with the dawn of a new day. I think it is because we often do our weeping in the silence of our inner thoughts while trying to maintain the outward appearance of prosperity. “I shall never be moved.” The face of God is not hidden all at once but fades from view the longer we isolate ourselves, relying on the limitations of our own strength. But when we finally run out of Kleenex and tire of living in the pit we have turned into a home healing begins to happen. It doesn't mean the dancing we do is pretty or polished, at least not right away. But the better we become at being honest with ourselves and others the more familiar the “mourning turned to dancing” becomes and in the freedom of sharing the joy of the morning might even last through the night.