Christmas Day

we look for you

in the messy stable,

but you are gone,

searching for the hungry

children you hear crying in the night,

the lonely widow who paces

the floor, as tears run down her cheeks;

we look for you

in the manger where

you were laid at birth,

but you are out

cradling those whose holiday

is spent in a hospital bed,

or sitting next to a friend

who is reliving his childhood

in a memory unit;

we come to Bethlehem

to find the tiny, innocent baby

so we can sing carols

and tell you bedtime stories

but you are running with

first responders into danger,

at the side of those who work

so we can take time off from our jobs,

walking with those who have

been turned away from the inn

managed by fear and greed;

we come on this holy morning

to be with you, Jesus,

but we may be in the wrong place.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman