Advent, Week 4 (Love): Mary

Incarnation

 

These things I will remember,

will fold them up small and tuck them away

to ponder.

 

The slow breath of animals,

the silent, patient eyes.

Their wordless acceptance of this entrance

through blood and pain and the tearing of flesh.

Removed from judgment,

from the sharp stabs of gossiping tongues,

they watch, accept, receive.
Joseph’s hands,

belying his terror.

Sinewy, sure,

strength never still,

saying all the things

he cannot.

These rough hands the first

to touch God-flesh.

The many-weeks pain he has carried

dissolving with this slow joy.

 

The earthy quiet,

the warm embrace of rest.

Outside chatters and hurries,

a thousand thousand people upended by a decree.

We must all be counted and named

so we can pay our share.

We must all comply,

must measure up,

must be known.

But no one knows this place.

I am hidden and held

by anonymity, this Your gift to me.

 

In my arms

the weight of eternity.

Pure love come among us.

Your birth birthing the way.

 

This is how we begin.

We journey long

and fear-filled,

seeking.

We are turned away

from all our expectations

and find ourselves still,

in the hovel that You fill

with light.

We breathe, listening.

We hold out the rough hands

and catch You

as You slip in

through our pain.

 

Our witness of the miracle,

our kingdom journey to follow the light

and lay down our gifts before you,

Your birth becomes

our death and re-birth,

Your way is our way home.

 

We find the end only by starting here,

after all the long labor,

by letting you be born to us.

We must hold the holiness,

must keep You with us through all the days,

over all the long ways to the cross.