Jesus is come.
I saw her even before the season began
In the folksy yellow blossoms of a tulip gift.
Jesus is come.
I opened Skype one morning and there she was—
Struggling with grad school overload, hanging in.
Jesus is come.
He grinned at me, needing front teeth for Christmas:
The rest tarred and tangled. But how he grinned!
Jesus sang “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer” with gusto if not with pitch,
And moments later swayed and gentled to “Silent Night.”
His child’s expectancy belied the violence that landed him in shelter;
Her shy teen smiled reached me behind locked gates.
Jesus sparked from yards seen from outer space
And pulled me close to feel His heart when the nightmares came.
I buttered her toast as she headed off to the work of need;
She paints magic to recoup.
Like me, Jesus has to eat, find shelter, balance work and refreshment.
I expect Jesus’ coming,
I open eyes wide,
strain ears for the sound of a distant motor,
sniff for change in the air.
I wait.
I am met.
But…no.
I’m not ready.
My house is a wreck.
I’m way too tired.
My relationships—muddled.
But Jesus is come
On the insistent dawn of this Christmas morn.
And I sit in mismatched jammies
Eyes wide, ears straining,
aching to touch the deep magic.
Jesus is come.
Here I am…
