bloody goodbyes

All I can say is: Father, reveal Your Son.

Such longing arising in this heart today… as I type-tip-type away
A weekend filled with sweet faces, heartfelt conversation, nostalgia, family
Yet as all things in this life, every bit of goodness is merely a taste, which leaves all in wanting

Deep, meaningful conversation point to a community so interwoven they are like the Trinity itself –
Existing after He comes and makes all things new
Familiarity and comfort of like-people points to that every nation, every tribe, every tongue before Him on the sea of glass –
Still part of a nation, still part of a tribe, still holding a distinct tongue
Simple wedding ceremonies cause an eruption of longing for a the climax of all history, the King of Kings taking His place on the earth of His Bride
Re-uniting with a lover and best friend points to His busting through the “we see through a glass dimly” to a nearness we have yet to know
Family points to the time we never have to say goodbye – something only ever meant to be temporary
Old familiar faces become a fierce draw to pray for Jerusalem, which will one day be the City the great men of old look for… one we will all be a citizen of, coming and go through its gates – Zion, community at its perfection

And so, I long.

It’s so interesting as the years of life pile on top of each other like books on the bookshelf.
These times, those smells, that song, this event –
People come in and pierce your heart for a moment, little little drops of blood drip out
And it never heals, these little holes…
And seeing those ones again, don’t patch them up, but pry them open just a little more.
And the only redemption from these dots of blood all over, is His Coming.
(the redemption of all things, of course)

So here I am a bloody, bleeding girl with a bookshelf so heavy that it’s cracked and breaking.

And the bloodiness isn’t bad, per say. It’s good actually. It reminds me I’m alive, I’m moving forward, I haven’t shut down, and it’s all going to something… something Big and Grand and Final.

It tells me, “No, no Tiffany. Something is absolutely wrong here. Things are not right. This is not how it’s supposed to be.”
And then I remember, “Why of course, this is why we need a Savior. A Slain Lamb worthy to take the scroll and open the seals. This is why. This is why. This is why. I won’t always bleed. I won’t always say goodbye. I won’t always long. For longing must be followed by satisfaction. Amen and Amen.”

So longing, in all its redness that stains my shirt, and all its stories that haunt me… and all its hope it creates, is for my good.