December 11th

“For God alone my soul waits in silence,
     for my hope is from him.” Psalm 62:5

Advent seems like a long season
of dusk, as the world fidgets
while shadows grow long.
should we stay still,
we might notice, in the hush
between worry’s heartbeats,
you leaning close, reminding us
hope is not something we build,
but that gift falling gently
like snow on open hands.
as we try to learn
how to breathe again,
may we trust the light
slowly coming toward us,
cradling the fragile dawn
you shape each morning.
and in the stillness,
we discover you
making us new
in that holy space
left behind as our fears
drift away like chaff.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman