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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