It's early today. Not any earlier than any other week. I'm just starting the day a little slower today than other days. When Gayle woke me up at 5am this morning I was in one of those deepest of deep sleeps. The kind it takes a shower and two cups of coffee to wake up from. Currently I'm just starting my second cup of joe, so forgive me if I write gibberish.

There were a lot of families saying goodbye at the station today. A mom in uniform saying goodbye to her kids, a young woman saying goodbye to her parents, a dad saying goodbye to his daughter and grandchildren.

All of the goodbyes were different… but the mom heading off to serve an assignment in the military was especially tough to watch. The kids were sad, the mom was sad, the grandparents were sad. Everyone cried. People watching it cried. Behind their sadness was fear. The fear of the unknown, the fear of loss of relationship, the fear of not knowing what's next.

The young woman saying goodbye to her parents, I'm assuming, was heading off to a new job. They were excited. Well… the mom and daughter were excited… the dad wasn't saying much. The mom and daughter were talking about the mom coming up for a visit to help her daughter get established in her new place. They had shopping trips planned and were thinking of how they were going to decorate the new apartment. (Maybe this is why the dad was reserved.) There was excitement, a hope of a continued relationship, a planned future that showed a promise of things to come.

The third situation wasn't anything special. Just a dad saying goodbye to his daughter and her kids. I got the impression that this was a renewed relationship. The kids were comfortable around the man, but the goodbyes appeared to be to someone they had recently met, not to Grandpa. They were courteous, and respectful, like kids are to most people they have known for a few days. The daughters goodbye hug was delayed, first there was a handshake, then came the hug, then a tighter squeeze. Not a lot of emotion, just a hug to communicate concern and care. The dad held on longer than the daughter did, there was an awkward disengagement, small waves goodbye, then abrupt turning and walking away by both parties. Only the kids looked back.

On the train there were a few tears. Some in uniform. Some sad, some joyous, some private.

In Colossians 1:27 it says, "To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory."

The Hope of Glory. An amazing phrase. God chose to make known, to people that were estranged from Him, something gloriously rich, that's " difficult or impossible to understand or explain." That mystery is this. Jesus living in me = The Hope of Glory.

Jesus living in me = The Hope of Glory. Someday I'm going to be reunited with everyone I know who knows Jesus. Those that have gone on to Glory before me, and those who will go to Glory after I do. There's a place where loved ones from the past, and ones that I currently live with, and even people I haven't met yet, will all meet again. We'll meet again in Glory.

My father and I will meet again and talk again. We'll get to establish a relationship that never existed except for the last two weeks of his life. My children will meet me there. My wife will meet me there. We can continue on. All of the friends I've made, the people I've known throughout the years who love Jesus will be there. It will be a great family/friend reunion. A really big party. (there will probably be bar-b-que)

Ok, maybe there won't be a bbq, but it will be a party.

Someday, the grey curtain of this world will roll away, and we will all see the party that has been prepared for us. A celebration of homecoming. The biggest family reunion ever.

Can't wait. I actually really can wait a bit I guess, I don't want to go real soon if you know what I mean. But I can't wait.

The Very Big Hello.