when our faith
has faded away
until we cannot
find it with a
magnifying glass:
come,
to dot the i
with a great dollop
of grace,
to cross the t
with the broad stroke
of incarnation;
when the gauge
of our love
has dipped below
E
and our meager lives
cannot produce another
drop:
come,
to push us to
the Spirit's station
where we will be filled
to overflowing;
when our friends
have dropped us off
at the 'returns only' counter,
where we reach out
in hope only to find
no one will take our hand:
come,
to surround us with
grumps and grannies,
prophets and punks,
whiners and wise ones,
your family here and now.
come,
o come,
Immanuel!
(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman
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