"Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning." - Psalm 30:5
"You turned my mourning into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent." - Psalm 30:11
"My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word." - Psalm 119:28
A year ago, my soul was weary with sorrow. We were barely 4 months into the waiting, and I felt like I could only fake it so much. Yes, there were days that were indeed blessed - those days when we could sleep in and sip on an entire pot of coffee if we so desired, the days we spontaneously decided to drive to Tuscaloosa for a ball game, those nights when we could sleep all the way through without worries about whether or not the monitor is actually working. But there were also the days when each not now, no, or even package in the mail could send me into a temporary depression. There were days when I could barely pull myself out of bed for the weight of it all.
While we waited, I originally had a whim of growing out my hair (it was the year of the #manbun; don't judge) while we waited to meet our child. If you know we very well, you know how nuts I go when the first hair touches my ears between cuts. Considering the length of time that we could have potentially been waiting, I knew this was not feasible. I wanted an outward expression of the journey we were on, but I wasn't sure exactly what that looked like.
Our profile "went live" a few days before No Shave November, so I decided to do something I had never done before in my life with much success - grow a beard. I kept it trimmed up every month or so, but I had a nice beard on April 11 when we got "the call" that I will never forget. That night when I got home, I shaved it clean and posted a picture with a caption about it being time for a change or something like that. There were a few people who knew the real reason why.
Flash forward to the anniversary of the waiting - the end of October 2016. I had a 6 month old at home who was a clear reminder of the mourning that had been turned into dancing. In scripture, those who were in mourning often wept, tore their clothes, and shaved their heads. I wanted the antithesis of that and proof of my God's faithfulness. So I decided to regrow the beard. This year, I decided not to trim it but to just let it do its thing. It's gotten pretty intense to say the least. Someone jokingly referred to it as a "chunk of love" last week.
Barring anything bizarre, I will grow this chunk until April 14, our family's gotcha day. I will look in the mirror and be reminded of the faithfulness of our God, the way he brought joy in the morning and turned our weeping into joy. I will forever share the story of how great our God is, and I will use anything I can to do that - even if that's just a beard.
