Yeah, I make up words. They are all made up anyways.
Words are convenient, they forgo the frustration of charades and get to the point. A good word is as frugal and self-sufficient as possible. "Todorrow" is my new word:
Why is this word needed? I suppose it could be useful when explaining that I have classes today and the next day, but what about when I have three days of classes or when I have a class on a Monday and Friday? In those situations, "todorrow" would be quite useless. Todorrow is actually quite limited in its range of usefulness. Truth be told, I really only created it for a singular use.
In my life, I experience moments that transcend the categories of today or tomorrow. Todorrow arises at the dinner table; it's a smile, a laugh, a story told. Todorrow descends around me in the cool of a forest, wooded paths enchanted by the glimmering of sunbeams on dancing leaves. It is a breath taken, a word spoken, a moment frozen in time. Todorrow meets me at every side.
Todorrow is the experience of tomorrow and today. It is easy to see how I could experience today, but less clear how I could experience tomorrow today. Maybe I can't do it exactly. If I am experiencing school today, you could say that I am experiencing what I will also experience the following school-day in a roughly similar way. Based on what I am experiencing today, I can anticipate what I will experience tomorrow; it is a todorrow experience.
When I speak of experiencing todorrow, I am talking about Heaven. Todorrow is resurrection; it is a new world. I experience the tomorrow of new creation today. It is not exact; it is a rough approximation. Yet in the midst of all the brokenness and miry messed-upness of this life, I catch glimpses of perfection. They are fleeting, and so they are not perfect, because what is perfect is eternal, but what I see in a fading moment I can foresee being perfected when made eternal. Sometimes it is just an impression, the warmth of the sun carried along by fresh-water breeze. Other times, it is the tangible joy of being reunited with far-flung family and friends. They are sacred moments soaked with the peace of God, experiences clothed in faith, hope, and love.
Winter winds come, friends and family leave, and trials squeeze me of God's peace. Even so, these moments remain. I have pockets full of heaven. Putting all of these fragments together, I see something of tomorrow today. I see through a glass darkly but know that I will one day see face to face. When that day comes, I expect it to be oddly familiar; abundantly more than yesterday, but not completely absent from it. I know tomorrow today, if only in part. I fervently cling to what I can know. Heaven is todorrow. With great anticipation, I look for it to be today.