The day time is busy. People, projects, expectations, tasks — they fall into each other like dominoes and there is no time to cry. This busyness, endless chatter of ‘must do’s’ – this is a gift. A gift that takes the mind off the dull ache of sorrow.
But the night does come. And when it comes and takes over, when you can hear a pin drop in the silence, when all is dark — that’s when the tears come. Fast and furious they come, with big gulps of silent anguish. Tears like Eustace in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader – dragon tears, hot and salty.
All over this city are those who cry in the night. All over this nation, this world, are those whose sorrow hides by day and cries by night. Whether hospitals or homeless shelters, brick mansions, or slum hovels, grief is no respecter of people or status. And God sees them all, knows them all by name. Calls them. Seeks Them. Sometimes even hunts them down.
And His Word whispers by day and shouts by night: Weeping may endure for a night, But Joy comes in the morning.*
Psalm 30:5b
Marilyn R. Gardner 