Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning. (Psalm 30.5)

It's one of my favorite songs we sing at our church, and, ever since our loss nearly seven months ago, it's been these opening chords that bring tears to my eyes. (And, yes, I still do measure time according to our loss. It's difficult not to do so.) I have to remember that, no matter how much weeping these times of darkness bring, there is joy that will come in the morning.

Those of you who read this blog know far too much of the night that has faced us in recent months, so allow me a moment to tell you some of the joy that has come in the light:

- One of my best friends--not trying to conceive herself--asked for a detailed update on our current situation so she could better pray for us.
- A friend I haven't seen in two years--a young mom herself--stumbled upon this blog and wrote a note of encouragement, solidarity, and love.
- My mum and I had the most incredible two days of "mother-daughter time," during which she told anyone who would listen--time and time again--how she loves me and prays for me daily.
- The girls in my online support group wrote messages of love and encouragement upon hearing the latest in our TTCAL (Trying to Conceive After a Loss) journey.

At Reston Community Church, there's another song that I love, too, though it's more fitting of Easter, perhaps. Its lyrics say this:

"Oh death! Where is your sting?
Oh hell! Where is your victory?
Oh church! Come stand in the light!
The glory of God has defeated the night!
Our God is not dead--He's alive! He's alive!"
(verses from 1 Corinthians 15:55)

I think this was played one of our first Sundays ever at RCC, but it still makes me stand up and shout--it is a battle cry that I want all the forces of darkness and weeping to hear the world over. I can't conquer darkness, but I know there is One who can. I can't erase suffering, but I know there is One who will. I can't eliminate despair, but I know there is One who does. Therein lies my joy.

One final thought: today, I was rereading a wonderful contemporary novel: Karma, by Cathy Ostlere. Towards the end of the story, the protagonist--who herself has seen so much suffering--posits this:

"But life is an enormous force. It doesn't let go easily."

No, it doesn't. Especially not when I am surrounded by evidence of such joy, such mornings, such LIFE. Thank you, all, for being tangible, real evidence that there are mornings to come that will bring joy I cannot yet fathom.