Weeping May Endure For A Night

— But Joy Cometh In The Morning. Psalm 30:5

To me, there are no more comforting and hopeful words than those. That’s my verse.  A lot of people have a verse that just feels all their own, and that one has helped me up and held me up, has rocked me to sleep, and has carried me to morning many, many nights.  Of course, it isn’t solely my verse, it may very well be yours, too.  I think it brings solace to people in many stages and situations in life.

There is a certain amount of daily trauma that goes along with figuring the ins and outs of life for a child that is exceptional in one way or another.  At least, there is in our situation.

There is the  trauma I have felt as a mother waiting through an entire school day, just praying my child doesn’t wander from campus.  There’s the trauma I’ve felt as a mother watching my son live life with a chronic illness and almost daily physical discomfort.  There’s the trauma I’ve felt as a mother watching many aspects of childhood just pass us right on by. I tend not to focus on the parts of life that are painful.  However, the mental and emotional toll is great.  For me, the worry is the hardest part to shake.

I just want to do this right.  I want my children to live the very best life they can.  I think that’s what every parent desires.  So, those calls from school, the staring eyes at the grocery store when behaviors completely out of my child’s control creep in, the setbacks at home–though they are mixed in with wonderful moments of thriving and progress and utter happiness, they are the ones that bring tears in the calm and stillness of night.

Those moments are the ones that flood my mind as I’m trying to sleep.  They seem to land on my heart and the weight can feel unbearable.  They lead me to reach for my phone and begin the reading and researching that I’ve spent countless nights engulfed in.  They lead me to strategize and come up with plans upon plans to help ease my child’s pain and struggle through the tough spots.

Then i think of my verse.  Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

Just recalling the words, stops me.  In the act of remembering that verse, I am suddenly brought back to knowing that I am not alone in this, and I don’t have to carry this on my heart alone. The heaviness lifts.  My children are not alone, either.  The hope and reassurance that my child has a beautiful and heaven-sent path ahead floods in.  It’s a cue to stop the wheels of worry and turn to my faith and hope instead.

I’ve been down this road a night or two, and yes, joy always comes in the morning.  Nothing in the bright sunlight of a new day is ever as dire as it seems in the darkness of the night before.  The hope of a new day is real.  Even though our circumstance is still just as it was, there’s a clarity of mind and a different perspective that comes as we wake.

When the night feels hopeless, it is a gift to me to be able to rest in the hope of the joy that is surely to come.

Written by BreAnn Tassone

Breann is a wife and mother to two beloved children. Her 8-year-old son is twice exceptional and has been diagnosed with pans/pandas, and her 3-year-old daughter is his most incredible advocate.  They both bring joy to this world in their own individual ways. Breann lives with her family in central virginia.  She is a former special education teacher and serves as a volunteer at her church within the special needs’ ministry.  She is a home schooler and coordinates groups and events within her community to support the childhood experience of her neighbors and friends. It is her conviction that all children benefit when all children are included, accepted, and can live this life learning from and supporting each other.

Credit : Hope Anew

Cynthia weaver

The Lord gave me that same verse the day I took my 7th month old son to his doctor’s appointment. Just a checkup and vacations.

But that day before we went to the doctor, I had a daily scripture flip over on my kitchen table. It was that verse. I also had a Christian channel on the tv. And I was doing my daily work in the house and heard it on the tv.

Then later I was in the kitchen, and I had a radio on the counter while I was in there preparing for our evening meal. And I heard that verse yet again. This was all before his doctor’s appointment.

I really had never heard or remember reading it before that day. But it was with me in my heart every time I would get bad news about Alexander. When he was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. When I got a call and was told that his brain and head were smaller than they should be and that’s why he had palsy. When I was told that he has a cyst in his brain.

I was told that if he started throwing up for no apparent reason to rush him to the hospital. When he had a seizure. When he was only 24 hours old. We had to take him to a very well-known pedantic neurologist.

It was a morning appointment. 10:30 am to be exact. I told my husband in our van on the way to the appointment that I thought we were not going to get bad news that day. Because the Lord hadn’t given me that verse that warned me yet gave me hope. He just laughed at me. I was reminded about how Mary treasured things in her heart, we went into his office. He took the MRI and put it up in the lighted screen. He didn’t even study it for 5 minutes. Then he pointed out 2 different parts of my son’s brain. He said “ you see here then here?” I replied “yes”. He then said that my son moved his head during the MRI. Even though he was put under anesthesia. And that he had no cyst in his brain. But that he did have lesions on his brain because of the very difficult birth. Yes, he did have cerebral palsy. But that it was only in his large motor skills.

He needed physical therapy. But cerebral palsy is not a progressive disease. He would be fine. To take him home and not worry. Just love him. Oh, I did and do love him.

We went to therapy for 6 months. He excelled above and beyond the chart for what is normal and not . He took off in a scooter when he was 3 years old on a hill. But he had such skill. He just put one leg out to balance his self. And flew down that big hill. His dad was running as fast as he could to catch him. But he couldn’t until Alex stopped at the bottom .

Also, he went to one of his sister’s friend’s houses with her. I got a call from her father. He was almost yelling. He told me that my 3-year-old was at his house making baskets in his hoop that hung over the garage. I could tell you so many more stories. But I’ll stop there.

For me, my son, there was truly “joy in the morning “

Cynthia

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