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.

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