Rejoicing Comes in the Mourning

Weeping may last for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. Psalm 30: 5b,11-12

I prayed these verses in the stillness of the early morning hours this morning. 

Oh, how I eagerly await the morning that promises to dawn bright with ONLY rejoicing. Now is the night. For now, rejoicing must come in the mourning. Albeit the hope and promise of a new and perfect dawn is reason to rejoice. 

I look to the day when my wailing is not merely brought to an end but is transformed to dancing. When the wailing comes from the deepest depths of pain does the future dance become all the more beautiful? For now, my dance it awkward as I often stumble and misstep. I long to keep up with graceful fluid movements yet find myself off beat and out of sync amid this world.  

Sorrow trains my muscles for the dance. The sackcloth of grief and sorrow builds strength like a weighted vest in one training for endurance. One day the weight of my sorrow will be replaced with the agility of pure joy. Then I will dance before and with my Father with a heart singling loudly in the major key of full surrender and deeper understanding. For now, I sing the minor key of lament accompanied by strains of weeping and rejoicing intermingled in a way often uncomfortable for others. 

How I long for the day, the new dawn.