Christmas Morning.

Nothing beats a good Christmas cry.

This morning I found out that three of my best friends are engaged. I'm thrilled for them. Absolutely thrilled. Each couple is uniquely endeared to me. And I'm happy beyond words.

But I'm also reminded this morning that I'm not among them. I feel quite alone in singleness this morning. Now before you rush to me with flattering words of beautiful and fantastic (never did understand why that is our response to loneliness...) I want to say that I'm thankful for it. Loneliness and tears, I mean. Both are special. Both are necessary.

This morning after hearing the news I found myself on the outer porch, sitting on our old kitchen table (that I'm now assuming will permanently reside there), wrapped in a blanket. I watched the snow fall and swirl like cinnamon rolls in the sky, then stick to the tree branches on one side. A beautiful scene, I'm sure you have one of your own. My dad came and joined me. I love when I get Daddy on the deck in the morning. He asked how I was doing with the engagements. To be honest, I wasn't really thinking about it. Or so I had fooled myself.

Tears came and I couldn't identify the source.

He said he came to tell me my day would come. That he was not the one for me. That God is even now preparing someone for me. That was nice to hear. I haven't heard that in a while.

But that's not what I'm caught on this morning. After daddy went back into the warmth of the kitchen, the tears came more freely. Bigger and more resolved.

The sky looked like it was crying with me. Then I realized it was God.

I sat in silence, the silence of tears. Mourning. Longing. And He mourned and longed with me.

See, we're in the same boat, Him and I. Neither of us have been brought together to the one we love. We're both waiting for the fulfillment of "I do". We're both in the already not yet stage. Mourning. Longing. For the end to come, for peace to be our permanent residence. This longing is not only mutual, but it is for one another. I am part of His bride, and He is my Bridegroom. The tension of here and still too far away is our living space for the time being.

My heart is aching, yes. But not for a human love. For Him. For my Yellow Bird.

I think it's appropriate to cry about this today. I've been in this anti-Christmas funk. I couldn't see much to celebrate. But this... this I can celebrate. Jesus, my Yellow Bird. Today I'll rejoice in His first coming, the day when heaven collided with earth in the God-man of Jesus Christ. The day when wrong was promised to be made right, and injustice foresaw it's fiery end. The day when my soul was offered hope; a new kind of hope, a hope that endures, hope that sticks around. And this is worth rejoicing over and crying about. And I do.

I do.