Sunday, April 4, 2010


"Weeping may endure for the night but joy comes in the morning."
Psalm 30:5

In the depth of darkness, I often forget what light is like. I lose hope of ever feeling the warm sun again or seeing the soft colors brighten the horizon. When I am sick, as I was the week, it feels like I will never be better. I wake up at night and can not sleep. My body tells me that morning will never come. Anxiety builds in my muscles and my mind races for freedom. All energy and strength are sucked into this whirlpool of fearful night.

On a broader scale, there are periods of my life that are so dreary they feel like night. The search for emotional and spiritual light seems bleak. Somehow, even in the darkest of internalized night, I hope and I pray that, "this too shall pass," and that joy will come in the morning.

And eventually, the sun rises. The light breaks into the beauty of a new beginning.
I try to etch those sunrises on my memory, so the next time I will not lose heart so quickly.

This morning is one to remember; brilliant and clear. The smells of new life burst from the dense, dark soil. The calls of doves and chickadees streak the air with harmony. The light of the sun penetrates my cold skin, warming my fearful heart. This Easter morning weaves joy and hope back into my weak and fragile heart.


  1. Kate, you are suffering. When you write so eloquently, it almost has the effect of romanticizing your distress, but it's obviously very real and not romantic in the slightest.
    I hope you are able to find assistance from somewhere more concrete than prayer. I take a risk in saying this because I am aware of your beliefs, but it is not meant as a denigration of your faith whatsoever. You're in my thoughts.

  2. Deborah- Thank you so much for your concern. Truly, prayer has been my safe haven when I have been in the depths of struggles. And God has responded in concrete ways, with concrete help and relief. I write now, mostly from the memories of distress. Thankfully, I do not feel that I am in the midst of suffering at this time. What I write is very real and I’m glad you could feel that. I am grateful for your comments and open honesty.

  3. Kate, Good that you came back to respond. I suppose this is one of the difficulties of interpreting what is written - certainly I have a tendency to see it in the 'here and now'. I'm glad you're all right.

  4. Deborah- This is a great reminder to me of the importance of context. Thanks again for your comments.