Lord, I have prepared a little room in my heart
for the child who is the light of the world.
Nothing fancy: there’s hay everywhere,
I’m afraid, and beneath the mess,
the stone hasn’t been polished at all.
You know, I had always intended
to make this place more hospitable.
But perhaps, Lord, it will suffice.
I will light a candle tonight,
within my heart,
and await Her coming.
I have hung a sign on my heart
in paper and crayon: open.
There is room here for laughter, I swear.
There is comfort in the food trough.
Meanwhile, by this cradle of darkness
I will carry the wait lightly
and name it as holy.