They that sow in tears, shall reap in joy.

Cursive. Samantha's nemesis. It's as if the torture gods concocted up the most painful torment for Sam to endure every day in school. (I think it was meant to torture me as well.) Everyday, we sit down for school and the question pops up. "How many cursive sheets do I have?" I would like to say I cheerfully reply,  but honestly, I usually loudly sigh and then give her the answer. The girl LOATHES cursive. And I am being 100% honest in saying that she cries over her sheet. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

So why continue? Why do I keep teaching it to her? Well, I could use the defense that child education Psychiatrists agree that cursive is good for the brain. Not only will find motor skills improve, but it helps with overall brain development. I could say that there is nothing like receiving a beautiful hand written letter from a friend. I could even throw out there that my pride won't allow me to stop. I want my child to be able to say "I have been writing in cursive since kindergarten." ( Honestly, who really cares...)

The reason I don't stop teaching her is because I know one day those tears will be worth it. Through this "AWFUL" subject, I am teaching Samantha perseverance, that life is hard and you must work hard, that in the end, you will be thankful it was taught to you.

When I sit there, watching her huff and puff over her sheets, my reactions are beginning to change. No longer to a see a whiny girl who hates hard work. I see the Psalm coming to life. "They that sow in tears, shall reap in joy." Those moments when she got it right and she is so proud, she sees it was worth it.

The same is with our family. We are sowing in tears daily. The future unknown. The road dark and unseen. Heartache. Backache. Sweat. But I am so blessed to be able to cling to the truth that at the end of it all, I can reap with joy. I already see glimpses of this.

Before, a bad breathed, crazy haired, demanding 6 year old may have made me cranky at 6am. But now, I am so joyful to see her beautiful little face when she rises. This means we have another day together! We have another morning that she is walking, talking, fighting. I am reaping in joy the fact that God's glorious truths are laid out on a path that I crawl on every day. I grasp that ground work through out my whole day and bask in the Hope that is my Lord. Would I have seen this before? Probably not.

God is so good when He allows us receive joy from what is otherwise full of sorrow. Cancer is bad. But from my tears, from my turmoil, God is bringing joy. A joy I have never had. Is it always apparent? Well, you can ask my husband... no. He sees the worst of me. But it's there so much more than ever before. The joy I am receiving is not fake. It's not forced. It's real. And I am so thankful for that.

As for Samantha and her cursive, all I can say is that we continue forward. And I know that with more hard work ( and tears), she will soon have more joy in her accomplishments. Her work. Her dedication.