I woke up with sunbeams splashed across my face and seeping straight into my heart. Fully rested, I clicked off the alarm clock and hopped out of bed eager to get the day started. My heart bubbled with joy and eagerness for the day. Why? I had no idea and kept questioning myself as to why I felt so great. Females hormones are severe taskmasters, so I decided I would ride this unexpected but welcomed exuberance until it ran out.
And run out it did. By that afternoon, my heart was heavy. An unexpected emotional encounter with someone I loved dearly suddenly exploded my joy rocket. It was one of those moments where words can’t fix the situation, and I was absolutely powerless. My helplessness broke my heart. I wanted to mend the problem, soothe a deeply hurting heart. Yet, I couldn’t.
I fought tears for the rest of the day; my early morning joy extinct. The contrast of the day was not lost on me. How could I wake up so blissfully — and unexplainably– happy then be heartbroken in matter of hours? Why could I dance around the house for most of the day then be plummeted into sadness by evening?
Most days, mornings don’t quite play out the same way for me. The alarm goes off and desperately wish I could just stay tucked away for another hour or so. I trudge out of bed and to the rooms of others who also wish for another hour, or two or three, of sleep. They wake up reluctantly. We start the day out of obligation not joy.
Both situations, the sunbeam morning and obligatory alarm days, bring the words of a favorite song to mind:
The sun comes up
It’s a new day dawning
It’s time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass
And whatever lies before me
Let me be singing
When the evening comes*
I crawled into bed after that day shifting sands, the day of mountain peaks and dark valleys. The words of this song floated into my head. I prayed silently that God would help me close my eyes that night with the song’s truth: find joy even after all the day has brought. In that instant, He reminded me of His great love for the one I was so worried about. He told me that He would hold my friend tight in His hand until the pain subsided. Resting in this sudden peace, the tiniest sliver of the morning’s joy returned. And I closed my eyes and let the lullaby of God’s peace sing me to sleep.
The evening had come, and in spite of the pain, I could still sing.
How do you maintain your song on those shifting sands days?
*10,000 Reasons by Matt Redman