Always rejoice . . .
here in this time of snow and slush,
colds and flu and stress . . .
wondering about the end of the month,
the end of the year,
the early ends of every day . . .
too much to do,
too much to see
(no good when it is too late . . . like this) . . .
there are happy bells . . .
happy songs . . .
happy words . . .
and happy silences
—the pregnant pause of life and hope,
waiting for God’s about-to-be, always-been, wonder.
Here it is: joy . . .
joy up against the noise and rush,
bills and lists and mess . . .
joy with no hope of being on time,
being on budget,
being worthy of every day . . .
joy all around,
joy to be found
(joy that is never too late . . . just is) . . .
joy in happy smiles . . .
happy sights . . .
happy sighs . . .
and happy touching
—the mighty grip of a small hand,
infant hand of God with-us-now, with-as-still, always.
Here it is . . .
here it will be . . .
always for us:
Author’s note: I’ll try to be on time with love.