Every Advent season is different. The most recent have been tumultuous: COVID, severely cold snows, visionaries warning of an impending catastrophe. But there are other factors as well: our personal problems, the ageing process, and the death of close ones. Advent, like a creaking old metal gate, constantly corrects us. It tells us that only one thing is important: the stable, that tiny crib where cows nibbled hay. Children and childlike adults can still find all the comfort they require there. We wait for a Jesus who only has happy endings, whose glory is in that star, in white fields––in those who have gone before us and those who will come after us. These poems commemorate the pleasure of His arrival. These poems celebrate the sweetness of His coming, His presence. We must learn to be still, to wait for and with the One who gives us Life. Praise Him.
Paperback, 76 pages.