Second Tuesday of Advent

Please read Isaiah 46:3-4; Hosea 11:1-4, 8

voiceless from constant screaming

for our own way,

bloated after feasting on

our toxic desires,

irritable because of

sleep-disturbed dreams

of more and more:

you would gather us up

like a colicky baby,

gently rocking back and

forth on your feet,

patting us tenderly on the back,

softly rubbing us with grace,

whispering the lullabies

you taught to the angels

so long ago;

so come,

Mother of our hearts,

come.

insistent that you take off

the training wheels (even though

we are scared inside),

knowing more as adolescents

than you could ever hope to learn,

determined to find our own way

even if it takes us from

your side:

you watch from the sidelines,

holding your tongue because

you know we need to learn

how to play life on our own,

you sit in the darkened living room;

staring into the far country

with hopeful eyes, until you

see the headlights turn into the driveway,

and silently tiptoe up to bed;

you answer the phone in the dead of night,

gathering up your keys, your wallet,

your love,

to go down and pay our bail.

so come,

Father of our hopes,

come.

come,

Parent we are convinced we don't need,

with the grace, the peace, the wonder

we cannot live without.

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman