Waiting Through

The glass door is decorated with nose-smudges,
tongue-presses, and who-knows-what kinds of fingerprints
while the Christmas window-clings lie sparkling on the floor.

Advent has popped upon the top of me,
quick on the heels of a slow-in-coming Autumn,
a Thanksgiving whose late appearance leaves me rattling.

Our hand-made turkeys still hang on the wall,
probable witnesses to the Epiphany this year:
oxen, sheep, turkey.

Even on these cloudiest and darkest December days
the mess sparkles: strewn toy villages, soggy napkins,
crumpled tissues, packed bedrooms, loose bath towels, squabbling voices.

In the attic, the wreath and four candles wait for me to find them.

Prayer of the Christophers

Father, grant that I may be
a bearer of Christ Jesus, your Son.
Allow me to warm
the often cold, impersonal scene
of modern life with your burning love.
Strengthen me by your Holy Spirit
to carry out my mission of changing the world
or some definite part of it for the better.
Despite my lamentable failures,
bring home to me that my advantages
are your blessings to be shared with others.
Make me more energetic in setting right
what I find wrong with the world
instead of complaining about it.
Nourish in me a practical desire
to build up rather than tear down,
to reconcile instead of polarize,
to go out on a limb rather than crave security.
Never let me forget
that it is far better to light one candle
than to curse the darkness,
and to join my light,
one day, with yours.
Amen.

~ reposted from livingwithchrist.us