Unto us a child is born, a holy child, the awaited one, the anointed one.
What room have we, in the manger of our hearts, to nurture all this child can be,
For us, through us, as us?

Following intuition’s star, we discover our Father’s / Mother’s / Parent’s house,
Doors open wide onto infinite rooms where God dwells.

Choices unlimited, like intricate paper, covering every wall.
Divine ideas lighting all the halls.
And around each corner,
Possibilities, potential, promise etched upon the furniture.

A veritable banquet set, a royal feast
Where we may sit at the table and help ourselves.
Nourishment enough for multitudes, ten thousand and more.

Magnificent gifts arrayed throughout.
One label reveals our name.
Ribbons and wrapping we remove to reveal the gift of whose we are.
Here, within that precious child’s eyes,
We behold ourselves, the essence of God.

Shimmers of hope guide us on streams of lovingkindness,
Each on our own way,
And born of grace, we begin.

What a glorious gift to be given — and to give.


© 2021 – Rev. Jennifer L. Sacks.  All rights reserved.


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