May 30: From Tears to Triumph

 Theme: Joy Comes in the Morning

Corry Chambers 
Shepherdess,
 Women’s Ministries Director CIC

 Psalm 30:5 – “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”
Romans 8:28 – “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God…”
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 – “…the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble…”
Revelation 21:4 – “He will wipe every tear from their eyes…”

In 2016, I stood on the brink of what I believed would be one of the most joyous seasons of my life. After four years of marriage, my husband and I were finally expecting our first child—a beautiful baby girl we had already named Jada. My pregnancy seemed healthy. My heart was filled with anticipation. I was surrounded by love and prayers.

But in a single moment, everything changed.

One Sabbath afternoon, just one day before my due date, I felt an unusual kick—something different, something that lingered. I thought it was Jada doing her usual somersaults in my tummy or maybe playing football. I fell asleep, feeling a bit exhausted after attending the morning service. Later that evening, my husband called from church to say that some elders—seven of them, along with my sisters—were gathered at our home to pray. I now understand how prophetic that visit was. The number seven, symbolizing completion and divine perfection throughout Scripture, became an anchor in the storm I didn’t yet know was coming.

By Sunday morning, I began to feel a slight pain in my abdomen and a nudge deep within urging me to call the private hospital overseeing my care. I was advised to wait until the contractions grew stronger and closer together. But they never did.

 On Monday morning, we went to the hospital—a decision my husband and I made together. And then came the crushing news: Jada’s heartbeat was gone. The words, “It seems we’re only getting a maternal heartbeat,” still echo in my soul. I had lost her. My body still had to endure the pain of labor, but my spirit was already broken. That night, I looked at my stillborn daughter and tasted sorrow deeper than words.

 And yet—God was there.

Even in the valley of the shadow of death, His rod and His staff comforted me (Psalm 23:4). The doctors had no answers. But through my own research, I later discovered I may have had a condition called polyhydramnios—one that could have caused serious complications or even taken my life. In hindsight, I saw God’s protection, not just in what He allowed, but in what He withheld. Though the loss was great, His mercy was greater still.

 In the days that followed, I didn’t want to talk. But God, in His gentle way, sent others—women who had walked through their own grief—to call, comfort, and connect. Through their stories, I began to see a thread of hope woven through every tear. What the enemy meant for harm, God was already turning for healing (Genesis 50:20).

And then, in that same hospital bed, came an unexpected phone call—a job opportunity. It was as if God whispered, “I still see you. I still have a plan.” Just as He restored Job’s life after devastation, He began to rebuild mine.

 Dear sister, if you’re in a season of mourning, know this: God is not finished. The night may be long, but joy will come in the morning (Psalm 30:5). Hold onto Him. Cry if you must. But know that He collects every tear (Psalm 56:8), and in time, He will trade them for joy.

 Reflection Questions:

1. Is there a painful experience in your life that you’ve been afraid to revisit with God? 

2. How have you seen God’s providence even in seasons of grief? 

3. In what ways can your story bring comfort to someone else?

 Prayer:

Lord, You are the God who sees, even in the darkness. Thank You for staying near in times of pain, and for turning our mourning into dancing. Help us to trust You even when we don’t understand. Fill our hearts with hope, and our mouths with laughter again. Let our tears water seeds of purpose and testimony. Use our brokenness for Your glory. In Jesus’ name, Amen.