In the Morning

I've been thinking about this lately.  Thinking, wondering, hoping, I suppose.

Thinking that maybe I will find joy in the morning.

Wondering what exactly "finding joy" means.

Hoping to someday find it.

Reading this verse, I can't help but feel a little cynical.  Because, honestly, I don't feel joyful in the morning. In fact, most mornings I mutter some nasty words in the direction of my alarm as it beeps me to consciousness, stumble into the bathroom, and hope that by some magical mixture of caffeine and Psalm-reading I'll suddenly be "joyful".

But digging deeper into this verse I find that though it promises joy, it's really telling us to have hope.  

It's saying that the sun will rise again, the trees will have leaves again, the night will come again, but the stars will shine again. 

"In the morning" may not literally be when you wake up every day.  "The morning" could take weeks, months, years to find.  The point of the verse is not about how easy "the night" is going to be.  It's not saying it's all going to be just fine, it's not saying what you're going through is fun or good or right. 

All it's trying to say it that, once you're through to the other side - to the light, the newness, the hope of the morning, there will be joy.  

Sometimes I think we're all living like this.  Somewhere right beneath the surface - wanting to come up for air and light - but some tiny bit of us still dragging us under, keeping us just inches away from the joy we would find above the surface.

We are all in this state at some point in our lives, whether we know it or not.  We're never fully on shore, and we're never completely drowning.  But if we hold on to that little glimmer just above us - that hope, that light that morning brings - we have been promised that we will find joy.

...Love, Anna...