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 childs 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 homeschooler 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.