Advent III - Waiting

This isn't the poem I wanted to write, but in the midst of work craziness and a sick child and now the sudden (if not entirely unexpected) passing of Mike's grandmother it's all I've got...unedited because life in this in-between time, this waiting for another advent, another coming...well, this life just has to be lived unedited in all of the high points and the low points. So we wait with the world, groaning through the low points and rejoicing in the triumphs for that day when there will be no more low points, no more sickness, no more stress, no more worry, no more death.

Photo by Isolino Ferreira via Flickr


This is life
The whole mess of it
The sickness
And the dying
And the laundry
And the laughter.
In the middle of the pain.
We just keep on turning, turning
As we wait for redemption
Wait for God in that one brilliant moment
To explain the whole plan,
End the waiting,
The wanting.
Conquer death,
Grave,
Moth and rust.
Dust.
We are waiting,
Living in the middle
Steeped in mess
But touched by glory.

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