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.
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