My soul is troubled,
O my God, tied in knots and tossing.
You are giving birth and I am a nervous midwife.
(Not even a midwife, who would have the calm words
and strong hands to encourage new life.)
Is this, then, the meaning of Advent:
to be constantly checking the hour and
watching the door, not knowing
how you might appear or
when you may call?
The voice of the LORD is rare these days
and I am restless for it to be born;
I am full of fear & awe to hear it.
O laboring God: my heart sweats with nerves
and strains with the discomfort
of the coming Mystery.
Is there any peace
to be found
in such a pregnant time
as Advent? Then teach me how to breathe
through the labor pains I pray, Most Pregnant God.