We advent each other in simple steps:
Smiles, caring, inclusion, polite gestures or referent affirmation,
Silently and subtly pointing our way to Bethlehem.
Each journey is singular, a personal mystery, sojourns of paradox waiting yet searching. We pack our bags differently these days. The travelling itself may seem burden and baggage enough.
The empty crib stands before us. Hidden at some distant place always in disguise, patiently awaiting our arrival. The Saviour within us and about us cries out for incarnated birth, once more to be heart in a land of hopeless hearts. The desolate winter of our disbelief can be renewed in a manger warm with embrace. So we follow each other star’s whether bright or dim, through dark days this December. Until suddenly home where the angels of our gladness shepherd us gently in.
Christmas transforms us new-born yet again!